


The Adventures of Missy, Time Lady Redeemed

by intellectual69



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Episode Fix-it: s10e12 The Doctor Falls, F/F, F/M, Gen, Humor, Minor Twelfth Doctor/Missy, Missy (Doctor Who) Lives, Original Character(s), POV Missy (Doctor Who), Season/Series 10 Spoilers, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25362652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intellectual69/pseuds/intellectual69
Summary: Following the events of the Eaters of Light, Missy decides that she's leaving. The Doctor lets her.Travelling around in her TARDIS, she tries to make things right — she tries to save enough people to make up for the ones that she's hurt. But, God, is that a bugger when you keep running into people who knew you 'pre-redemption.'
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/Missy
Comments: 57
Kudos: 53





	1. A Moment of Bravery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads-up! There will be absolutely no posting schedule for this fic because I have an unpredictable work schedule and an inability to focus. It's better for both of us if the updates are a surprise. We'll both be disappointed in me if they aren't.  
> Ciao!

Missy was thinking. It was something she did an abundance of lately. Specifically, she was thinking about the Doctor. She didn’t want to admit that so many of her thoughts consisted of him; his latest antics, and how often his casual touches extended to her. It was a weakness that she was learning to live with.

But she wouldn’t live with it any longer, she’d decided.

Her many thoughts, though she’d made sure they were heavily guarded from the Doctor, seemed to summon him. He walked into the TARDIS console room slowly, an unnatural pace for him. The difference in his exterior lead Missy to believe that he’d been doing some thinking of his own.

He came to a stop a couple of paces behind her, and they stood together in a silence that stretched on.

“Missy, I-“ the Doctor started.

“Actually, I’ll stop you there.” She turned to face him, and her suit bustled. A moment of bravery, or she’d never do it. _Coward_ , a voice teased her.

“You,” she said slowly, “are gorgeous. You’re like every wonder of the cosmos all packed into one little man.” She winked. “And you’ve got the best eyebrows I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that when I came in here,” the Doctor smiled.

Missy sobered, and her easy grin fell. “There’s more.”

“Oh.”

“I think your little friends would agree that it’s very easy to get lost in the beauty – to lose who you are when the Doctor's personality is just so large.”

She swallowed. “Loving the Doctor is tantamount to suicide.”

“Loving?” Missy’s heart clenched. “You love me?”

Logically, she knew he was surprised to hear it because, well, the thought of her loving the Doctor just wasn’t important enough to be thought. Not because she’d tried her damnedest to kill him on so many occasions, not because she pretended like she barely paid him any mind, and certainly not because he thought she was cold-hearted and incapable of truly loving someone.

She tried to laugh, really, but it came out as more of a distressed _thing_ that would be traditionally classified as worrying. She looked down, because his eyes were too big right now, it was too hard. But after a moment’s weakness, she forced herself to stare him down, look deep into his eyes, and convince him of her next words.

“How could I not have fallen in love with you?”

If a small tear slipped out and down her cheek, she paid no mind. That didn’t stop the Doctor, however, from reaching up to wipe it away. _Cheeky bastard_.

Missy grabbed his wrist with a lightning-quick grasp, her eyes never leaving his.

“Don’t,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. She put their hands down in front of them, still clasping each other.

 _A moment of bravery_. “That’s why I have to go,” she breathed out.

The Doctor, not famous for being adept in conversation, decided it was rather best not to interrupt Missy while she was ridding her chest of an evidently large weight.

“I’m leaving while I can still breathe, Doctor. While I can still say goodbye.” She nodded, affirming her point to either him or herself, and quickly spun about, grabbing her umbrella from its stand.

“Where will you go?” he asked, staying rooted where he stood as she strode towards the door. She was glad he didn't try to stop her. She might have just listened to him.

“Oh, you know.” She spun, smiled, and said, “I think I might just run away. Time and Space, Doctor. I’ll meet you the long way ‘round.”

She backed her way through the door, savouring one last look at him, and took the final step outside. The door to the TARDIS shut in front of her, and she took a deep breath. It felt like she was coming to the surface after far too long underwater.

And then, she ran.


	2. Bloody Likely

Missy found her own TARDIS, the one that she’d left around for insurance. It was meant for an escape plan. Now, she was thankful for her volatile trust issues.

The only thing that was really bothering her was the difficulty that came with choosing where to go. It was easier before, of course, when she didn’t have to go looking for trouble to put a stop to. _She_ was the one who caused all of the trouble.

How did the Doctor do it? He always seemed to stumble upon the people who needed him most. She scoffed. Annoying, that was.

She closed her eyes, put her fingers on the console, and let them pick a probably wholly unrecognizable destination. When the TARDIS actually hummed in agreement and started materializing, she bared her teeth in a surprised smile. She’d done something right.

She grabbed her umbrella — to complete the look, of course — spun it 'round once and stepped outside. She gave the air a sniff.

“Earth,” she groaned. “Bloody likely.”

She gave the surrounding area an inspection and decided that she was her own new best enemy.

She’d parked the old TARDIS in an alley, now disguised as a very inconveniently large recycling bin. Just outside of the quiet alley was a bustling street, cars zipping by, people walking distractedly on their phones. She popped her finger in her mouth and stuck it up in the air.

Early 21st century. 2018? No, no. She stuck the finger back in her mouth. Definitely 2016. 

She really hadn’t gone far. So much for running away.

Missy bent over and grabbed a handful of dirt from where it had built up to make room for her TARDIS, letting it slip through her grip and into her other hand. It felt very Welsh.

She scrambled the dirt away with a roll of her eyes. First venture unsuccessful thus far.

What did the Doctor do at this point? Wander? The voices in Missy's head were having it out. It was a cacophony of 'you're not trying to be the Doctor, dear, leave his silly arse in the dust,' and 'you bloody insolent woman, you. Go find some trouble or at _least_ stir up some of your own.' There were other opinions, too, but they were generally very lewd thoughts she probably shouldn't share. 

After the voices had quieted, but not stopped entirely, of course, she decided it was best to go for a little walk, let the trouble come to her. 

She bounced on her heels as she walked quickly, spinning every few steps, twirling her umbrella in large circles that didn't always manage to miss passing pedestrians. She hummed a tune to herself that sounded vaguely like _Hey, Mickey_.

She was incredibly good at passing time, having spent all those hours in that insipid vault, but this was getting to be ridiculous. She didn't even have a piano. 

She stopped very suddenly in her dancing and forced all of the air from her lungs in an aggressive huff. She'd thought this would be sexier. 

A shrill scream from inside the building to her left caught her attention, however. Her eyebrows rose in interest. She might be a little luckier than she thought.

No, no, that's someone in trouble, better not seem too excited. 

She smiled brightly and lept forwards to find a door to get inside. Faced with a contemporary apartment front, she simply lasered her way in and strode through the entrance. The scream had stopped, but someone was still breathing very harshly, and rather annoyingly, somewhere past the stair landing. 

"Hello?" she crooned. "Anyone at risk of immediate death?"

No one answered.

"Maybe not death, I suppose, that's not very sexy." She made her way up the stairs. "Extreme danger leading to severe injury?"

At the top of the stairs, there was a woman bracing herself against the wall — she was the source of the irritating noise. She looked at Missy, and something (the clothes, it was always the clothes) made her eyes widen a fraction.

"May I ask, dear, what's making you pant like a bloody dog?"

The woman, who was barely old enough to even be a woman, huffed indignantly at Missy. "I don't- I _really_ don't know."

"Well, can you at least try to be helpful?" Missy's hands found comfortable spots to rest on her hips. 

The woman's eyes widened for a very different reason now. Missy's decidedly rude commentary had her miffed, but it seemed to be pulling her out of her shock. 

"Sorry I'm a little freaked out right now, but I was just robbed by a little- a little... _thing!_ " she shouted. "I'm not overly concerned with being helpful to some-" she faltered there. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm Missy," she smirked. 

"And Scottish?"

"Not exactly, dear. And you are?"

"Oh, uh, Andrea. I'm Andrea." She fumbled out her hand in an attempt at offering a handshake, but abandoned her efforts when Missy simply stared at it. 

"Andrea. Can you describe the 'thing' you saw before, or is that too difficult for you to manage?" Missy asked sweetly.

Where Missy was relaxed, hands gracefully on her hips, Andrea was rigid, swiftly crossing her arms in front of her chest and raising her chin. She breathed out hotly.

"I can, and I will, _Little Missy_ -"

"Oh, we are _not_ calling me that-"

"It was a tiny thing, about a foot tall? Beige, pale. Antennae, of some sort. And it, um, it stole my purse. Well, I guess, not _stole_ , so much as ate it."

"Ate it?"

"Ate it."

Missy's mouth twitched. Off to a good start, she supposed. 

"Where, exactly, did it run off to?"

Andrea whipped her head around, like she'd forgotten that it wasn't too far off. Her panic was returning. "Oh, God, down the hall."

"You think?" Missy griped as she made her way in the direction that Andrea had indicated. She found that as she went further down the hallway she could hear something, a rustling, some clanging, growing louder as she got closer. 

"Be careful!" Andrea warned. From a safe distance, of course. 

Missy passed door after door, stopping just past one on her right, and slowly backing up until she was right in front of it. There was a barely noticeable hole at the bottom of the door, about five, six inches wide. Without daylight, it blended right in.

She flicked out her screwdriver, could practically hear Andrea flinch, and put it to work on the lock.

Just as her hand touched the knob, there was a crash from inside that rivalled all the others.

She swung open the door, and there was what looked like a little troll sitting on the kitchen countertop, eating all of the appliances. 

"Quite an appetite you got there, hm?" Missy said placatingly. She stayed right where she was in the doorway. No sense dying this soon in her cleanse. Well, dying heroically was okay. 

The thing in the apartment suite paid her absolutely no mind. It swallowed the toaster whole before it crawled over to what must have been a very tasty coffee machine. 

"Oh, you're lovely," she breathed.

But before she could do or say anything else, there was a faraway knock on the door to the building. 

She looked at Andrea, who shrugged, and only moved to see who was there when Missy gave a nod in that direction. "Right," Andrea said distractedly, and she moved out of Missy's sight to open the door.

"Hello," a voice greeted from around the corner. Female. Welsh. "Just checking around here, love, we heard some reports in the neighbourhood of some strange goings-on. Seen anything out of the ordinary?"

"Well, actually..."

Oh, for God's sake. Well, maybe not God. Someone's sake. Missy's sake? No, that's another psychiatrist's field day. 

"Mind if I come in?"

Andrea must have either moved or been moved out of the way, because steps sounded through the building, making their way up to where Missy was standing. A middleaged (for the human lifespan, at least) woman with dark, long hair pulled back stepped into view, and caught sight of Missy.

"Hello, there, love," she smiled, a gaptoothed, motherly thing that was supposed to have a calming effect. It made Missy roll her eyes nearly far enough to see into her own head. "Something a little strange happening 'round here?"

"Strange for you lot, maybe. What petty organization do you belong to?" Out of the corner of her eye, the thing tried its hand at shoving the fridge down its gullet. It was nearly succeeding.

Affronted, the woman approached Missy with a little more pep. "Torchwood, ma'am. And you?"

"Oh, I don't get a silly little title, I'm just me."

"And who's 'me'?"

"Missy. Now, let's save the chatter and get back to that thing in there, yeah?" She pointed her thumb to the other side of the door. "Unless you've got an ACME dynamite kit, or, you know, something with a little more flair, we're going to have a problem."

"Consider yourself the expert, do you?"

"I've seen this before. Pting. Nasty, beautiful little thing. Eats everything in sight, especially if it's got a nice zip to it."

Torchwood narrowed her eyes. "Zip?"

" _Electricity_ , genius. Keep up. That thing's almost done with all the kitchen appliances. That's just a snack, dear. Then, after that, What's next?" She smiled tauntingly. "Who's next?"

Torchwood stood straighter, looking rougher around the edges. Her motherly look had morphed into something more dangerous, something that could shout orders at you. "How much zip do we need, then? I've got a car out front with supplies."

"Excuse me," Andrea interrupted, "But just who are you people? And what is that thing?"

Missy sighed. "A pting, dear, we've already gone over this. Dangerous, maybe a little adorable, could even call it disgusting," she said.

"But, is it... alien?" Andrea spoke as though being able to actually hear the word 'alien' might make it true. 

"Well, of course, it's an alien, you daft girl. I mean, what did you think it was? A bloody _human_ baby eating that ate your purse?"

Torchwood found the words to intervene. "That's quite enough. Come here, love, let's get you to sit down a mo'." She put an arm around Andrea's shoulders and led her away from Missy.

 _Really gonnae have to start agreeing with the_ _Scottish_ _jokes,_ Missy thought. 

Torchwood came back a minute later, sans expositionary character. "You've got quite the mouth on you."

"Oh, you wish you knew just how good." Missy winked.

It was Torchwood's turn to roll her eyes. "Married," she said, holding up her left hand for good measure.

"If I'm pretty enough, it doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Oh, Jack would just love you." She put herself in the doorway with Missy and took a deep breath. "ACME dynamite kit, the whole lot, and then what? You're suggesting we feed it to him, are you?"

They both watched as the pting shoved a whole 60-inch television down its throat, the cord to plug it in not quite fitting in his mouth until he slurped it up like spaghetti. 

"It's the only thing that'll distract him long enough. After that, we can swaddle him like a wee babe and get him onto my ship."

"Your ship?"

"Didn't I mention it? I'm not, what you might call, from around here."

"Right. Okay. Going to get some explosives now."

Torchwood left swiftly, leaving Missy to supervise the pting. He was stuffing a lamp down his throat. Apparently, he was bigger on the inside, too. 

Missy considered how she'd handle this. She hadn't put much thought into how she was going to go about _being good_. She could try to be good like the Doctor was; people above all else, no collateral damage, ever. Stupid, but kind. That would really put a dent in her plan, though. 

She was new to this. Maybe a test run with the Doctor wouldn't have been the worst idea. 

Loaded with supplies, Torchwood came back up the hallway after assuring Andrea that everything was alright, and okay, and just you wait here, dear, it'll all be fine. She stopped beside Missy and held the explosives against her hip. Not ACME, but they'd do.

"So, how are we going to do this?"

Missy leant over and relieved her of the explosives. "We'll make a ruse, regular old tricks." She shifted the weight to one arm and put a hand on Torchwood's leather jacket. "Strip, dear."

"You're kidding, right?" They stared at each other, and she huffed. "My favourite jacket, lost to some shitty alien, again," she grumbled. 

"Right. Now, you stay here with him, and I'll be back." 

Missy danced down the hall, and broke into the neighbouring apartment. 

* * *

"Hold this." Missy tossed the jacket back to Torchwood. 

"I get this back now?"

"No. Still need it. Now come here." Torchwood made her way over, and Missy stole the final piece of the plan. "Pick a number between 27 and 153."

Torchwood stared. "84?" 

"Right. 84 seconds, and we level the block."

"What?" Torchwood tried to wrestle back the explosive, but Missy had already set it. "Are you _fucking_ insane?"

"Sure, if that helps you. Now, come along." She grabbed Torchwood's hand to pull her to a concealed area behind a piece of furniture. There, they waited. 

It was taking longer than Missy thought, but the narrative called for rising tension. She put herself comfortably close to Torchwood (comfortable for her, of course), keeping her whole front plastered against Torchwood's back. She sighed contentedly and Torchwood bristled, mumbling something about John Something-or-Other. 

Oh, it was just flirting. She could calm down, really. "Decency is a social construct, dear," she whispered. 

"Bugger off, love." 

The pting wandered in. 

Missy had gathered all of the electrically charged appliances in the apartment she'd gained access to, leaving a trail that connected the two. It was a combination of luck and the pure, untainted intelligence that she credited herself with that he hadn't just ignored the whole thing.

Thirty seconds left on the clock. 

A remote went in his mouth. Then an electric can opener. There were still a few more pieces leading up to the bomb, but he'd taken notice of the big kahuna. No way was he wasting his time on appetizers anymore. 

He strolled up to the bomb, which counted down ominously, and inspected it.

Fifteen seconds.

He sniffed at it, walked slowly in a circle around the whole thing, and sat down in front of it. 

Five seconds.

Missy could feel Torchwood's heart racing through their contact. 

And then the pting ate the bomb whole.

It went off somewhere inside his middle, and Missy took that moment to rip Torchwood's jacket from her grip, sprint across the room, and swaddle him in the fabric. She picked him up, squirming and fidgeting, and ran for the door.

"Time to go, Torchwood."

Torchwood ran after her, and shouted, "You know my name isn't Torchwood, right, Missy?"

"I'm not an idiot, Torchwood, I just forgot to ask your name when we introduced ourselves and now it's too late to not be _bloody awkward!"_

They sped out the door, past an alarmed Andrea, and down the street. Torchwood followed close behind, right on Missy's heels. (Literally, heels. This regeneration had mastered running in them. After a few incidents near the beginning.)

Missy made her way down the alley and yelled at Torchwood to open the door to the inconveniently large recycling bin. True to her nature as a Torchwood employee, she didn't question it. 

Once inside the TARDIS, Missy said her quick greetings to them and asked them to materialize in deep space, far away from here. She tossed the baby bundle at Torchwood, who caught it with a loud, startled noise. 

"Don't let it touch your skin, dear, that'd be unfortunate for both of us."

"How could it possibly inconvenience you?" she said indignantly.

"I'd have to clean up the body."

She took out her laser screwdriver and pointed it at the doors. "Now, give our tot a nice kick in the arse!"

Torchwood did exactly as she was told, even if a simple toss would suffice. She threw the pting up in the air and booted him out of the TARDIS.

Once he'd left the materialization field, he detached himself from the jacket and floated happily away. Missy strode forward a few paces, and waved goodbye with a smile. 

"Bye-bye, you fat little thing," she whispered.

Torchwood was still trying to catch her breath from the running. It could have been the unfortunate human biology, or the fact that she wasn't as young as she used to be. 

"Since you didn't ask," she said as she stepped up to Missy, "I'm Gwen." She offered a handshake.

Missy took it primly, and gave it a featherlight shake. "Missy."

Gwen blinked. "I know that already."

"Shush. I'm practicing."

* * *

A short trip in the TARDIS had Gwen back in Cardiff, right where she'd left the SUV. She just had to clean up the mess, retcon Andrea, and spin a convincing story for the serial burglaries. So, an average workday. 

"I'll be honest, I've never really done this part before. I think I'm supposed to ask if you want to come with me, whole universe at our fingertips; then, you like it so much you actually _stay_ with me, then there's lots of unresolved sexual tension, blah, blah, blah. Or something just as dramatic and predictable."

Gwen smiled sweetly. "Married."

"Ah. Right. Well, I suppose I should at least give you this." She handed over a piece of paper, but not before scribbling a series of numbers down on it. "To reach me, if you ever run into another alien resembling an obese child."

"I'll cherish it," Gwen said. "Goodbye, Missy."

"Mm, 'til next time, love."

She swayed on her feet, made her way back into the TARDIS, and went to find more trouble.

Or cause some. Definitely one of the two. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to a lack of consistent writing on Doctor Who, I reserve the right to claim that a bomb will, in fact, stun a pting. Thank you.


	3. A Distress Signal

Missy didn't have to worry about choosing where to go this time around. She'd just gotten herself all cleaned up from her inaugural trip — ptings, with no sense of personal hygiene, were very stinky — when she heard a loud beeping coming from the console. 

She took her time making her way over. She was in a time machine, after all. 

It was with some reluctance that she'd set up a program to accept all incoming distress calls. It was such a blatant act of _good_ , and she wasn't used to offering her kindness. She'd gotten this gig without job experience.

The signal was coming from Sector 8023 in the third quadrant of the Mutter's Spiral Galaxy. _Damn_. This better not become a habit. 

Umbrella in hand, she gave a twirl, set the coordinates, and leaned out the door.

"Hello?" she sang. There were three people in front of her, dead silent, wearing some god awful space gear.

They stared at her for a few lengthy seconds, mouths open, until one of them finally recovered. "Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?"

She just smiled. "I'm Missy. Elusive traveller in Time and Space, you may have heard of me."

"No. No, we really haven't."

"So disgustingly ignorant," she sighed, looking to the heavens. Well, somewhere in a vaguely _skyward_ — in space, dear — _damn_. 

The same person, a leader of sorts, considered Missy. "And, why are you here?"

"Well, you called me, didn't you? Please, tell me _someone_ here is in distress, or else this is all a rather embarrassing mistake."

"I sent that signal out seconds ago," another one piped up. "How did you get here so quickly? How did you get here at all?"

Missy looked at them disapprovingly. "Did nobody pay attention? Traveller in Time _and_ Space?" Nobody answered. She rolled her eyes. "Let's move on to names, I suppose. That might be more geared towards your intellectual capabilities."

The one who thought she was in charge shook her head. "Sure. Fine. I'm Cynthia, but it's General Devries to you." She gestured to her crewmates. "This is Major Pérez, Ryan, he's our molecular biologist. Major Thomas, Carter, they're our technology consultant."

Missy sauntered out of the doorway, and closer to the humans. "Military in space? Boy, that's a fine idea." 

"Canadian military, thank you very much. We're peacekeepers. And this is a research project."

"Research on what, exactly? And, why's a 'research' team in life-threatening danger?"

Major Thomas took their opportunity to speak. "That's what we don't really understand. Things started happening after..." They looked at General Devries. "After we brought the specimen back to the ship."

"Now, I told you, I don't have time for your fanciful stories, Carter. Nothing as far as I've seen is presenting a threat. It has to be a hallucinogen, something you interacted with, something we're not used to—"

"I was never in the lab! Or out to gather it. Ryan was the only one who was around it, and he agrees with me. Right?" They looked at Ryan, but he'd found his feet a much more interesting sight at that moment.

"Then it has to be a pathogen, an infection of sorts. It passed from Ryan to you and—"

"Look!" Major Thomas was pointing somewhere past Missy's shoulder. _How cinematic_ , she thought. She turned around and watched her poor TARDIS find themself all alone, blocked off from the others in front of them. A wall was growing where an arch had once been, spinning new fibres into solid shapes as the group just watched. 

Missy was looking closer, however, and her gaze was more nuanced. _There isn't a wall in front of me_ , she convinced herself, _it isn't there_. Ha! There, just a little to the left, she saw a shimmer, could almost see right through to her TARDIS. 

Mere perception filters were no match for Missy's psychic power. 

She made fast strides forwards, to the confusion of her damsels in distress, and smacked her nose right into the very solid wall. "Ow!" she yelled, grabbing her nose and doubling over. "That hurt like a mother!"

Major Thomas had the gall to laugh at her. "What the hell did you think was going to happen?" 

Major Pérez had stepped forward to help Missy, which earned him a big shove. "I'm fine, dear." She didn't need anyone running around thinking they were the hero when she was in fact the saviour here. 

Again, that's narcissistic. Can't go thinking like that anymore. _Bugger off._

General Devries, however, was in shock. "Oh. Oh, shit. What's happening?"

Missy sighed, letting go of her throbbing nose and wiping the little bit of blood on her skirts. "I _thought_ it was a perception filter, hence why I walked straight into the bloody thing, but that's an extremely _real_ wall. No need to argue over that one." She looked at Devries. "You got the proof you wanted. Now, will you let me help you?"

She nodded distractedly, running her fingers through her hair. "Great, no more power struggle. Now, all we have to do is get back to my ship and we're footloose and fancy-free. Got it? Anyone know the way around the new construction project?"

Major Thomas piped up, sticking their hand in the air like a bloody school child. "There are cameras around the ship to monitor our work. I can access them and compare them to the schematics."

"A brain! Someone finally has one. Incredible, absolutely astonishing. Carter, was it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're my new favourite."

Carter smiled and ducked their head. "The flattery really isn't necessary, ma'am." They turned, taking their tablet over to a nearby console in order to get to work. 

Missy cringed and looked at Pérez and Devries in turn. "Ma'am?" she intoned, disgusted that Carter had the nerve to think she deserved such a title. She strolled up to the two, put herself between them, and simultaneously pickpocketed them, swiftly removing their guns from their holsters. She wasn't discreet.

"Hey!" Devries exclaimed, reaching for her weapon, but Missy held it just out of reach and ran across the room. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Ditto, dear. What's a _peacekeeper_ doing with a gun?"

"Those are standard issue. Don't pretend like you know anything about what we're doing here."

"What I _do_ know," she said, tucking a handgun in her bosom, "is that for this arrangement to work, I must take the hands out of the guns of the criminals," Missy said, with the air of a self-righteous ruler.

"That's not how— sorry, are you _actually_ stupid? Ryan? Do you know what the fuck is happening?"

Ryan shook his head. "No, ma'am. Let it show, for the record, that I don't know what's happening."

"I do!" Carter said. They walked over to the group, their eyes bright, and showed their screen to everyone. It was split down the middle with two separate blueprints.

They pointed to the one on the left. "These are the original schematics." Their hand shifted. "And _this_ is an updated version based on the cameras I could access. Some of them are offline right now. System malfunction, as far as I can tell."

Devries soldiered up, squared her shoulders. "Is there a clear path to _this one's_ ship?" She jammed her thumb in Missy's direction. 

Carter looked very uncomfortable. They started chewing the inside of their cheek. "Yeah. Clear. Sort of. We have to go around the room in a big, messy circle. It goes all the way 'round the ship in one huge detour."

"There's no other way?"

They shook their head. "This is the only clear route that hasn't been blocked off, yet. And there's no telling whether it'll still be open by the time we make our way through."

Missy's expression soured. "That sounds an awful lot like a trap."

"You're suggesting this thing is sentient?" Ryan asked.

"You aren't? Some biologist you are." Missy tapped Carter on the shoulder and motioned them toward the now only exit. "Forwards into the trap, troops!" She pumped her fist (still occupied by a gun) into the air. The three around her had the sense to flinch.

"You just said this was a trap," Carter said, "but you want us to walk right into it?" They were being bodily pushed by Missy out the door.

"Of course, dear! We have something they don't."

"Which is?"

"My umbrella."

* * *

Walking around the ship (late 21st century, very primitive) was getting extremely boring. For Missy, of course. The others were intent on keeping their attention fixed on the walls around them, waiting for them to shift. It could have been imagination, but Carter swore they could see movement every now and then.

"I haven't spent that much time around humans," Missy said, "but I hear you like 'ice breakers?' How about some name games? I'll go first, of course."

She tapped a finger on her chin. "Let's see, hm. My name's Missy, you all know that already, I've been told it's quite unforgettable. I've got two hearts and the penchant for an occasional murder, but I'm in remission."

"Murder?"

"I'm working on it." She ran her right hand over the wall as she walked. "Who's next?"

When nobody said anything, Ryan lifted his hand in the air. "Me, I guess."

Devries smacked his arm, hard, but he just shrugged. 

"I'm Ryan Pérez, Major. Graduated from my Ph.D. program in 2046, and I have a little sister, Ida."

Carter smiled. "Aw, a little sister? You never said."

"Well," he rubbed the back of his head, "things haven't been the greatest between us since I left, you know? She was upset that I couldn't stay, ran off with her girlfriend. Haven't heard from her since."

"Oh," they said, distracting themself with their tablet. "Sorry."

"That's all good and dramatic," Missy announced, "but can we get on with the game? This is supposed to be encouraging."

Missy ignored the look that Carter sent her way. 

"Fine," they said, "my name's Carter Thomas, Major, and I'm an electrical engineer. No siblings, and no parents to speak of. Dead mom, distant dad, the works. It's fine. Oh, and my guilty pleasure is the stupid ice cream packets they keep on board."

"Yeah, why do we have so much of that shit anyway?"

Carter smiled. "I may or may not have used my expertise to _slightly_ adjust the inventory."

"That's my human," Missy said, trying to be positive, "criminally deviant and selfish to a fault. It's why I tolerate you." She shuddered. Positivity was sickening. 

Ryan sighed. "Missy, you still haven't explained why that damn umbrella is so important."

"And general Devries still hasn't played our little game. One thing at a time."

Devries turned to her, pausing their walking for a nice yelling match, a good power struggle. Missy was excited.

"This is ridiculous—"

"Look!"

"Oh, God!"

Devries looked around in confusion before she had the sense to look down. The floor under her feet was starting to shift and spin. It didn't much look like floor anymore, closer resembling the twitching of grass blades in the wind. It reminded Missy of the endless fields on Gallifrey.

"Whatever you do, do not move," Missy said, backing Carter and Ryan up while she inspected the thing that was threatening Devries. _Or, more accurately,_ Missy thought, _things. Plural._

They were moving faster now. Devries knew what was happening before Ryan or Carter even had a clue. The floor was working its way up her legs, weaving _through_ them. 

She looked up at Missy. She spoke quickly. "I'm doing the name game now. I have a brother. Timothy. Tim. He hates it when I call him that." She huffed, almost entirely consumed. "Just tell him I was brave. Please."

Devries fell to pieces in front of their eyes, and Missy turned to her charges. 

"She's—"

"Dead, yes, and if you don't keep your head up you will be, too."

Carter was finding it hard to breathe, and Ryan was feeling very sick. "How can you be so _flippant_ about this?" they yelled, incredulous. 

Missy grabbed their arm, pushed Ryan along, and kept them going. "You have to be. You can mourn later if she was that important to you."

Giving her a shove, Carter separated themself from her grip. "Don't touch me," they growled. Missy rolled her eyes. She would have removed her hand from Ryan, as well, but doing so would leave him stranded far behind them. He was unresponsive, wouldn't even be moving if he wasn't in such a suggestible state. 

They pressed on.

* * *

Carter led the way. They were silent. Staring down at their screen for reference, they turned a corner. Then they looked up.

"No," they said, jogging up to a wall that was conveniently right in their path. "This wasn't here before."

"Is there any other way around?" 

They shook their head. "No. Your ship's right through here." 

"Well, then, time for the secret weapon."

See, Missy's travelled the universe for centuries. She has experience. And, more importantly, she has very refined reasoning skills. It was her best area in the Academy. 

Now, where does this leave her? She'll tell you. Experience gives her ideas, and reasoning gives her somewhere to go with those ideas. In other words, she knows that large groups of creatures, hivemind or not, typically respond to sound. Don't believe her? Think of pigs with hog calls, or the Pied Piper luring rats away with his magic pipe. More so the first example.

That's great, you say. Missy drew a conclusion, and you know she's right. Because she's Missy. 

But, wait. Large groups of creatures? How had she thought of that? While Carter and Ryan were sobbing deliriously over the loss of their chain of command, Missy was paying attention to the important bits. She saw the individuality of the mass movement and catalogued it for later inspection. 

And, finally, what does Missy have that can create a single-pitched, long-lasting noise? Her sonic umbrella. 

Now you know where her mind's at. 

She pointed the damned thing at the wall, and set it to a low pitch, slowly working her way up until she garnered a reaction. 

When nothing happened at all, besides her humans covering their underdeveloped ears, she stopped.

"Well, that was anticlimactic."

Carter stepped forward, lowering their hands from their head. "That's it? We're all out of ideas?"

"Not quite."

She took Devries' gun out from her biological spare pocket and tossed it down the hall behind them, along with the one she'd been hanging onto. Carter watched intently while she held Ryan upright. Then, Missy reached back into her breasts, pulling out her laser screwdriver. 

"How much room do you have in there?" 

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know?" Missy lilted. "This is the fun part, dear. I'll take him." They swapped, Missy reluctantly taking Ryan, and Carter happily taking the umbrella.

"Brace yourself and run on three, okay?"

"Brace for what?"

"Three!"

The wall that was previously in front of them shattered under the assault of a 'full blast' from the laser. Missy giggled (maniacally.) Carter screamed. 

"Ooh, they didn't like that! Better get a shift on!" Her smile fell to a face similar to that of someone who'd just had a lovely taste of battery acid. "A shift on?" she muttered. 

They surged forwards, through the opening with thousands of moving creatures all around them, and Missy's gorgeous TARDIS opened their doors for Carter.

She was without Missy and Ryan. 

Ryan had stopped somewhere in the middle of the room, and Missy tugged on his arm uselessly. 

"Come on, you oaf! We're moving!"

"It's my fault!" Ryan cried, his first words since Devries had died. "I wasn't supposed to touch any organic material, let alone bring it back to the ship. Cynthia was covering for me."

"Oh," Carter breathed. It made sense. The delay in the authorization, the tension between them. They just couldn't see it past their screen. 

"So?" Missy said. "Get over it. You're not going to make me report _two_ deaths instead of just the one."

Ryan swallowed. "Yes, I am."

Missy reared back her fist to get him to the TARDIS the easy way, but by then the ground beneath him had trembled and opened. 

She yelped (completely unprofessional, really) and made her way to Carter.

"What are you doing? You can't leave him!"

Missy grabbed one of Carter's wrists and led them further into the TARDIS, shutting the doors quickly behind her. "I can't do anything, dear."

Carter threw her hand away from them, bracing their hands behind their head. 

"You said you were going to save us. You said you could help," they said lowly. 

"I _did_ help. There's one more person alive today because of my interference, and that person is you. Cut the survivor's guilt and grow up. They made their choices."

"They didn't know!" they seethed. "God, how can you be so—"

Their lip trembled.

Missy rolled her eyes, but she couldn't ignore the weight pulling at her heart. 

She nearly threw up as she did so, but she reached in between the two of them and wrapped Carter up in a hug. She held them close, almost gagging as she rested her chin on their head. 

She gave the hug enough time for five deep breaths, then let go.

"There. Is that enough comfort for you?"

Carter's breathing had evened out, and even though they had tear tracks down their cheeks, the anger was gone. "Thank you," they sniffed. "That was kind."

Missy almost jumped up and did a dance. Kind? That wasn't so hard, was it? She'd have to get used to the nausea, but it was progress. 

She smiled instead. "Where to?" she said, pacing around the console with her hands behind her back. "Home?"

They snorted. "There's a reason I was on that research mission, and it has something to do with my answers for the name game."

"Ah. No home, I take it?"

"None to speak of."

"What about..." Missy straightened her skirts. "What about here?"

When Carter didn't say anything, she pressed on nervously. "I'm trying to be _good_ , and you seem to be a positive influence on that. I mean, it's a pretty fair deal. You get a place to stay, and I get access to your moral compass? Unless, of course, you don't want—"

"Missy."

She stopped her rambles and her pacing and, for once in her life, paid attention. 

"I'd love to."


	4. Domestic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today, my bad. Hope you enjoy :)

Carter needed sleep. According to Missy and her many, _many_ aggressive comments, Time Lords — Time Ladies, actually, some of us prefer the distinction — hardly slept at all. Missy found it very exotic that all of the stress had worn them right out. She even offered to watch them while they rested. 

"Absolutely not. I'm perfectly capable on my own, thank you." They'd taken a seat in the console room, and they could have curled up right then and there for a nap. "Did you squeeze a spare room in this place or something?"

Missy let out a bark of laughter. "You can have your pick, darling. They'll make one just for you, if you want." She patted the TARDIS.

"They? Is this ship..." they trailed off, too tired to think of the word. They rubbed their eyes.

"Sentient? Yes, dear, they're alive. Too much technology in the universe without a consciousness, if you ask me."

Carter had too many questions. Their brain was filling with them, all flying around in their head, but they couldn't grab onto any, make sense of them with the fuzziness that seemed to surround them. They needed sleep, badly, or Missy'd be in for a ride. 

Their patience was wearing thin. "So, can I just take a nap here on the settee, or—"

"Gosh, _demanding_ ," she sang."Let's go, then" Missy grabbed their wrist, took them down the hallway, and slapped a palm on the first door on the right. The door swung open and she stepped out of the way. 

It was a cozy bedroom, not too big, and with just enough clutter. They'd never had anything like it.

Carter trudged closer to the bed, Missy following, and flopped down on their side. 

"Huh. Exhaustion is a lot more literal than I thought. How long should I allow you? Are three hours enough?"

"Eight," they groaned, "please." They snuggled further into their comfy pillow. 

"Remind me to be positively amazed, and a teensy bit snarky, about the faults in human biology when you wake up, will you?"

Their eyes were already shut. "Really, I'll do my best."

Missy left the room and shut the door. She shut it quietly, and even dimmed the lights, just to stick it to whoever thought she wasn't capable of change.

* * *

Carter woke up with old tears crusting their eyes shut. Exhaustion had put them to sleep right away, but it hadn't stopped the post-fear from gripping at their chest, weighing down their lungs in crushing suffocation. 

The feeling was still there. They headed to the bathroom, the one they hadn't noticed before, just in case they were sick. It was looking more and more likely. 

They splashed cold water on their face, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. Conservatively, they looked like shit. They didn't have any toiletries with them, though, no concealer to hide the bags and the puffiness, no rouge to make them look alive. 

They looked around the posh bathroom, spying soaps in the shower. It was a fat chance that they'd find anything, but maybe someone had been here before them. They crouched down and opened the drawers under the sink. There was toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a hairbrush in the one, all neatly stored away, and a hairstyling device in the other. They had short enough hair that the latter was rendered useless. 

The next drawer proved more fruitful. There was a zippered bag that was just elegant enough to perhaps carry beauty products. Opening it revealed that it only held basics, but the primitiveness wasn't anything they were unfamiliar with after weeks upon weeks in deep space. 

Applying it took away from the overwhelming scruffiness their face had developed, but it wasn't as colourful as they'd have hoped. They considered asking Missy to make a stop for some pieces to provide bolder looks. Missy herself seemed to be very fond of bright lipstick. Shouldn't be a problem.

They gave their face a little frown, their hair a ruffle, and stumbled out of the bathroom. 

Carter was happy to find that there were clothes in the wardrobe, as well. They peeled off their dirty, old, government-sanctioned clothes, and put on some comfortable bottoms that went down to the knees, along with a large, cable-knit sweater. 

Satisfied, they set out to find Missy. 

They tried to find the console room, but after a few extra twists and turns, they realized they'd gotten lost. The TARDIS was bigger on the inside, of course, but to a degree that they hadn't considered when they'd left their room. After a while of no familiar surroundings, they started trying the handles on the doors they passed. 

Most of them were locked. Others were _very_ locked, with more bolts and chains than seemed strictly necessary. Every so often, they'd come across an unlocked door, but most of them were filled with junk.

Some of the unlocked rooms even held items that alluded to Missy's more nuanced kinks, but Carter tried to forget about those ones.

Beating themself up for being so stupid, cursing Missy for not coming to fetch them, they nearly accepted defeat before turning another unremarkable corner. There, past a large arch, was the biggest library they'd ever seen. 

The shelves reached all the way up to the high ceilings, making the ladders spread sporadically throughout necessary. It was cozy, mahogany, and carpeted — everything they could ever wish for in a library. 

They wandered deeper into the maze of shelves, an awestruck smile taking over their face. They ran their hand over the old, leather spines as they passed, and plucked one from its home. It was in a foreign, circular alphabet that they couldn't read. 

Carter flipped through the worn pages, rubbing the thick paper through their fingers. Wherever the book was from, it was old. 

And then, to their surprise, the symbols started to move before their eyes. The printing blurred, rearranging itself into a more familiar language. 

The spontaneous translation didn't make it any easier to read, however. There were so many unfamiliar words, such completely incomprehensible jargon, that it was positively wasted on Carter. Too many words like 'becquerel' and 'coulomb' and 'farad' made their eyes jump all over the page.

"Finding everything you're looking for?"

They jumped, almost dropping the book. "Jesus, Missy! You scared the shit out of me."

Missy plucked the book from Carter. "Is he really still popular?" She set it back on the shelf, dragging her finger along the front gap, collecting the dust and brushing it away on her dress. "He was always rather too _righteous_ , I thought. 'You must love thy neighbour as thyself'? Absolutely unreasonable." She sighed. "For me, at least."

"Yeah, sure. Jesus. What are you doing here?"

"Me? What about you _?_ My ship, after all."

"Mm, ours, now. You offered me a place." They bounced on one foot and spun in a circle, heading out into the open. "I got lost. You could have mentioned how big this place is."

"When could I? You were asleep the moment we stepped in the TARDIS, dear." She followed Carter and threw herself over a setee dramatically. "You left me all by my lonesome... for hours," she complained, tossing a hand up in the air to accentuate her point.

They snorted. "You're hilarious," they deadpanned. "You should do standup." 

Missy laughed. "Mean! I'm terribly hurt!"

"I'm serious," Carter smiled. 

"Sure you are. Now, where are we going? _When_ are we going?" She fluffed her curls.

They pointed at the middle of their chest. "I get to choose?"

"Just this once. First trip and all. Never again. Ever. So, make it count."

Carter didn't even need to think about it. But, they made it seem like they did, to come off a little less eager and, well, desperate. "Can we see my mom?"

"You're going to make this domestic, now, are you?"

The best part about being well adjusted to a lack of parent is the finesse with which you can pull the 'lack of parent' card. What Carter means is they're used to using their dead mother as a gambling chip to get what they want. They're not ashamed. Not really.

"She's dead, Missy, not much that's domestic about that." They gave the 'motherless' pout. 

Although Carter was unaware, Missy knew full well what they were doing. Even the Doctor would do the same thing, talk about being _last of,_ and all. She was used to it, but not immune. 

"Fine," she griped, getting up in a huff. "Come along, before I change my mind." She hurried out of the library, Carter hot on her heels.

"Wait, really? I didn't think that'd work. Aren't there rules, or something? Can't interact with your own timeline? Is this a bad idea? Are we breaking a rule?"

"Can you _shut up_ , please?" Missy let out a long breath. "God, you're more annoying than the wee bald one."

"Bald? Who—"

"And, no, there are no rules. Well, there are. I make them, though. And, sometimes, I break them. It's a functional system, no problems so far."

Carter caught up, matching Missy's pace alongside her. "What happens if _I_ break the rules?"

'That's easy — no more travelling. If you can't listen to me, if you make yourself a liability, you're gone. Got it?"

"Got it." They cleared their throat, tried to keep up. "So, what are the rules? Is there a list?"

"No, there's not a _list_. You pick them up as we go, or you don't go at all." Missy sighed as she entered the console room. "No more questions, it's such a bother."

* * *

Carter took a deep breath and opened the doors of the TARDIS. 

They were in a park, filled with trees and children, all running around on the playset. There was a cool breeze, one that brought the scent of a neighbouring barbeque all the way to the TARDIS. The sun was high in the sky, marking the day to be at sometime around noon. 

"What's the date?" they asked Missy. 

She joined them outside and sneered at the kids. "July 21, 2021."

Carter smiled in disbelief. "You're fantastic," they said. They looked around, patted their pockets, and turned to Missy. "I'll be right back. There's something I need to get first." Missy watched as they strolled across the open grass, bounding up the sidewalk and down the street. 

Missy looked around, spying a bench that was perfect for perching. She'd wait there. 

Here's the thing about how the Mistress, formerly the Master, dresses. When she found herself in her first female body, she'd never had to dress with a feminine touch before. She was brand new to the scene. There was something, however, that had always remained constant in her past outfits, and she wasn't going to let something as insignificant as a new gender change that.

It was the looks of fear they garnered from onlookers. Her style was always intimidating, and she prided herself on it. 

Take 'Harold Saxon,' for example. Crisp suits, always, meant to keep people out of his way. There was her latest regeneration, too. He had favoured a more crazed look, a mix of prints and colours that told people he was probably (definitely) insane.

And, then, Missy. She'd chosen purple, victorian, wild. She was audacious, very devil-may-care, barely contained in a corset. All of these looks, all of the clothes she chose to dress herself in, they kept people away. But, there was one flaw in her plan. Children.

Children see something brash and unreasonable, something that breaks the rules, and they find themselves fascinated. Women with dyed hair? They're ethereal creatures. Punks? Gods and Goddesses, all decked out in spikes and eyeliner and such a big _fuck you_ to society, they're like magnets to kids.

Missy, unfortunately for her, falls under this category. 

She'd drawn a crowd of one little girl, who sat down cross-legged at her feet. Missy tried to get her to go away by simply ignoring her, but she just kept staring up in awe. "Shoo," Missy said, waving her hand at the child. "If you'd please stay away from me, urchin, then I won't have to _destroy_ you." 

The girl scooted closer and grabbed a fistful of Missy's dress, mesmerized by the fabric.

"What did I just say, hm? Where's your human? I need to tell them they're terrible at parenting." She stood up and tried to shake her off. The girl just held on tighter, using her grip as leverage to work her way up Missy's leg. "Get off, you blasted _thing_!"

Before she could cause any more of a scene, Carter ran over, set down what they were holding, and plucked the kid from Missy. "Woah, there!" they said, swinging her around in a circle. "We've got quite the climber on our hands."

Missy grumbled and shook out her clothes.

Carter set the girl down and knelt down to her level. "'Scary Poppins' isn't in a good mood today. Why don't you go find who you came here with, huh? That's probably a good idea." They turned her around, gave her a little push in the right direction, and stood back up. They raised their eyebrows at the tizzy Missy was in.

"I hate those things," she said.

"I noticed." They smiled at Missy's state, and picked up what they'd abandoned before. It was a quaint little bouquet of flowers, an amalgamation of plants in different colours and sizes. They were pretty. 

"Well, those are positively adorable," Missy teased. "Are they for me?"

"You wish they were." They walked away from her, across the park. Once they'd gotten close enough, they jogged up to the woman they'd made the trip for.

"Hello," they beamed, stopping in front of her. "Just wanted to say happy birthday." They dropped the flowers in her arms, stared for a moment, and ran back to where the TARDIS was, leaving their mother from the past frozen in confusion.

Their mother wouldn't live long enough to see her child all grown up, and she wouldn't recognize them as the mysterious someone who surprised her on her birthday. She would always remember the stranger, though, and maybe even tell the story to her little Carter when they were old enough. 

Missy was back at the TARDIS doors already. "Are you done yet, dear? This is all so..." she sighed. " _Domestic_." She looked sick just saying it.

"Yeah. Done." They turned around, waving at the still shocked woman across the park, and followed Missy inside. Carter was happy. 


	5. Genesis, With a Bit of Exodus

"So," Carter began, "I got my choice of location. One time only, apparently." They ran a hand through their hair. "Where are we off to next?"

Missy flipped some levers around the console, tapping her chin. "I was thinking we could try the Arcan System. Arcateen V? Very interesting lot, if not a bit dull." The machinery in the centre of the controls began to pulse up and down. 

"Arcateen V it is," they said, holding on to the edge of the counter to stay upright. The room swayed and jolted, nearly knocking Carter down.

Then, the noises of the TARDIS all came to a halt, and Carter loosened their grip. "Hold on a mo'!" Missy yelled, disappearing downwards to look through a compartment in the floors. "I could've sworn I left it in here."

They crept closer, careful to stay out of the way of objects tosses carelessly in their direction.

"Sorted under 'annoying planet _and_ annoying inhabitants.'" She looked up, scrunched her nose, and got back to work. "Maybe I should narrow that down, that's a lot of people. Aha!" She held up a closed fist in victory, giving Carter a dazzling smile. She tossed whatever she'd been looking for at them.

They held it close up to their face, giving it an inspection. "What is it?" They grabbed it by the string and let the attached pendant fall. "A necklace?"

"An Arcateen crystal. Just about the only good thing to come from this planet," she said with a frown. 

"Why do I need it? Is it ceremonious, or something?"

"Put it on and find out, dear." She narrowed her eyes, grabbed the necklace, and brought it over Carter's head. It'd been a long time since Missy'd had telepathic contact with anyone. 

_How's this?_ she asked Carter. Their face lit up, and they took a step back. 

"How are you doing that?"

Missy tapped the crystal. "Arcateenians, they don't communicate through sounds. They use these. It receives, carries, and projects telepathic signals."

"They're telepaths!" they said, looking down in awe at the piece of technology around their neck. 

"Well, they're not _that_ impressive. I'm a natural telepath, all Time Lords are. Don't even need pretty little crystals," she scoffed. 

"So, as a brand new telepath, how do I project? Is it like speaking?"

"Just as you'd expect. Think the words, don't say them. And there's a bit of control necessary, too. Point and shoot, dear." 

"Okay," they said slowly, furrowing their brow in focus. _Like this?_ they asked.

Missy bared her teeth in an excited grin. "Just like that, yes." It felt strange to have someone connect with her. The last person who she'd opened her mind to was the Doctor, and she was trying so desperately to move on from him. 

Her face must have shown some of the melancholy she felt, or else Carter was receiving much more through the Arcateen crystal than Missy thought. They sobered, and the energy that had peaked was now falling quickly. It was time to keep up the momentum. 

"Ready to go now, are we? Fancy yourself savvy enough?" 

Carter smiled, grateful for the change in pace. "Of course. Learn as I go or don't go at all." They gave Missy a mock salute. 

"Off we go!" she trilled, leading the way out. 

* * *

The second that Carter stepped out of the TARDIS, they were assaulted by the bright sunlight that forced their hand to shield their eyes. They were standing in a bustling city, high-reaching buildings all around. It was similar to their home, but the atmosphere, the culture, was completely exotic.

For starters, there were two suns in the sky instead of the usual one on its own. And, second, there was a very uncomfortable, foreign buzz in the back of their head that wouldn't quiet itself. 

They found themself completely enamoured by the sights that filled their view, stopping dead in their tracks to gape openly. The city the TARDIS had materialized in was filled with technology, sure, but it all looked so natural. There were plants and water and grass everywhere, on the buildings, around the buildings, even in the sky. It seemed quite the paradise. 

Missy grabbed their hand and stole their attention from the view. _Don't speak out loud_ , she said, _or you'll draw attention to us_. They nodded, and Missy dragged them down the street and into the throngs of people.

In this sense, Carter used the word _people_ lightly. They were more accurately described as forms of light themselves, like a thousand little suns on the surface of the planet. They had colourful tendrils that reached out along them as they passed, and they floated a couple of inches off the ground. 

_They're beautiful_ , they told Missy, smiling kindly at one that was staring at their odd, lightless shape. 

_If you're into glowsticks, I suppose_.

 _Is that racist? Are you being racist right now?_ they giggled — out loud, which earned them a dirty look.

Missy sighed, but only in her mind. _I think I liked you better when you were in shock_.

 _You love me_. 

_Shut up_.

The two continued on for a few more blocks, finding themselves the target of quite a few stares. They were the only ones for miles that didn't emit their own light source. Visitors, on this planet, seemed few and far between. 

_Where are we going?_ Carter asked Missy, giving out yet another smile to a suspicious face. The silence to their ears was unnatural. There was no noise, except for in their mind, which was a different kind of unnatural entirely. 

_I'm taking you to the tourist sights_ , she replied, swinging her umbrella as she pranced along. 

The 'tourist sights' ended up being a massive spire in the centre of everything, all glowing and pulsing and _living_. It had a glow surrounding it, just like all of the Arcateenians. Missy stopped, let go of Carter, and flourished her hands in its direction.

 _What's it for?_ they asked. 

_Well, you've got a little piece of it around your neck there. Arcateen crystal._

They unconsciously touched the rock on their chest. _You're serious?_

 _Look around,_ she said, nodding her head in the direction of the people around them. They were all wearing the same as what Carter was, all on various different chains and attachments. Looking back up at the spire, they saw the resemblance. 

_They mine it_ , Carter said. _Planetary resources_. _Does it regenerate itself?_

 _Nah,_ Missy answered, _they use it all up in a couple of centuries. It'll be a whole thing, become super rare. Museums, illegal sales, the lot._

 _Little bleak,_ they said.

Missy shrugged. _The same thing happens to Earth, eventually_.

_Thanks for the heads up._

Carter jumped at a strange feeling on their shoulder. They spun around and came to face an Arcateenian who was mere inches from their face. 

They grabbed at their chest and tried to catch their breath from the surprise. _Sorry,_ they directed at the Arcateenian. Point and shoot. _You scared me there, is all._

 _My apologies_ , they said formally. _We don't see many visitors here that look like you. I felt I should see that everything is alright._

 _What do you mean 'you don't see people that look like us'?_ Missy interjected. _People must visit all the time, all that artistic talent and whatnot._

 _You're mistaken. Arcateen V is home to many great artists, yes, but we must travel away from here to garner any attention. No one comes to the Arcan System,_ they explained. 

_Well, we're here_ , Carter said jovially. _Any tourist recommendations?_

They thought a moment. _Taundri, across the square. It's a beautiful mural._

_Does the name mean anything?_

They looked at them strangely. _You_ _—_

 _Right, that's enough chatter with the locals._ Missy grabbed Carter's hand again. _Time to go see the sights._ She smiled at the confused Arcateenian and kept them moving. 

Carter went along with her for a few steps before they pulled back, slowing her down considerably. They hit Missy's arm. _What was that about?_ they asked pointedly.

 _From now on, when you're with me, you'll be connected to the TARDIS's translation circuit. That means that conversations about language and translation are out of the question._ She looked at them through her lashes. _You didn't think everyone here was speaking English, did you?_

They blinked. _So, I've just made a great fool of myself?_

 _You don't have to try too hard to do that, dear._ They stared at Missy imploringly as they walked. She rolled her eyes. _Taundri, the word, doesn't have an English translation. The TARDIS tries their best, but there's only so much they can do. You just asked that Arcateenian to translate a word in a language that you were already 'speaking' fluently._

 _No more of that, then. Right_ , they nodded to themselves. Then they came to be in front of the mural in question, Taundri, and their eyes softened. On the sides of one of the buildings that had amazed Carter initially, there were spatterings of colour, all in various shapes and forms, spreading all the way up to the top of the structure. Some of the shapes were recognizable to them, like the flowers that seemed to grow towards the suns, and others remained a fascinating mystery. 

_That_ , they said, _is really cool._ They smiled up at Missy. _Thank you._

* * *

Missy and Carter continued to walk around the city, even visiting what might pass as a library to give Carter a chance to read the fantastic poetry that Arcateen V was so famous for. They consumed line after line, sharing what they thought were the best bits with Missy. Now they were on their way back to the TARDIS, ready to skip town. 

_I'm starving_ , they whined, tugging on Missy's arm to make her go faster.

_Remind me, when did I become a mother?_

They giggled out loud, _force of habit_ , and found two rather surly looking Arcateenians walking up to them. It almost looked as though they'd been waiting for them. They glowed less spectacularly than the rest of their kind, and one of them had a large device held between two flowing tendrils. To Carter, it seemed to resemble a spider, with eight long limbs of metal stretching out from a central core. They were both brandishing something that they recognized as weapons. 

Instead of a polite conversation like they'd had with the other Arcateenian from earlier, this was much more brusque. It felt like instead of replicating spoken conversation, the words and the information was being shoved into their head forcefully. 

_Excuse us. We received an anonymous suggestion that you are both travelling undocumented._ Carter blanched. _Are you carrying the necessary travel documents to prove this untrue?_

_Er—_

_Well, of course, we must have them on us somewhere_ , Missy said, patting down her pockets with a reassuring smile. Carter's twitchy behaviour wasn't helpful. They were avoiding looking at the ones who'd stopped them, and their breathing had quickened. They bit their lip and rocked on their heels.

Missy chuckled nervously. _Must have forgotten them back in the ship, weren't anticipating being stopped._

They hefted their weapons so the tips were aimed at Missy and Carter. 

"Woah, woah!" she said out loud, bringing her arms up to protect Carter and placate the assailants. They didn't like that Missy had switched from the telepathy to speaking, and their glow darkened. "Get the business ends of those things out of our faces, or I'll use the energy that you produce to power my bloody toaster." She glowered hard enough for one of them to flinch, but they stood strong. 

"Missy," Carter said, pulling her arm down. "Maybe we should do what they say."

"No, not today we won't be."

Missy swung her umbrella up as it swept open, blocking their view of the people in front of them. Carter braced for bullets, or whatever would have come out of those weapons, but none ever came. The umbrella was producing a high pitched whine, and, though they couldn't see it, Missy was using it to jam their weapons. "Run," she said, grabbing their hand and pulling them away.

They ran between the buildings that Carter had so admired, following a route that only Missy understood back to the TARDIS. Carter heard the weapons they'd had hit the ground, rendered useless by Missy's tampering. 

"Are they the law enforcement?" they asked breathlessly. 

"Sort of. Fascist government, that there's a hit squad. They dole out punishments worse than the damn _Judoon_. I thought the radicals were only on Arcateen IV," they rounded a corner, "that's where the government has the most power." She laughed like the crazy woman she was, smiling, and shouted, "It appears I was wrong!"

The Arcateenians were close behind them, their biology apparently allowing them to be quite the superior sprinters.

They were, more accurately, gliding, but who's keeping track of these things?

Carter looked around frantically, trying to think of a plan that didn't involve being ultimately caught by the hit squad.

Their gaze finally landed on what would spark their worst idea yet — Missy's pockets. They plunged their hand into the folds of her dress as she was running, reaching for what they knew they would find.

Missy stopped running immediately, damned be the hit squad. "Oi! Are you trying to cop a feel on me?" She gave Carter a rough shove away, but they already had Missy's laser screwdriver. They planted their feet on the spot, pointed at the Arcateenians, and fired. 

Or, rather, tried to fire.

Missy punched Carter in the arm, and, whether it was because she was a Time Lady or just really pissed off, it hurt like a bitch. "It's isomorphic, you idiot!" she seethed, looking just about ready to rip their head off. 

The hit squad caught up to the pair, restraining them with their long, arm-like tendrils. They didn't even sound out of breath. _You're both charged with the performance of illegal activity in the Arcan System, including lack of proper identification, illegal trafficking, assault of a law enforcer, and evasion of law enforcement,_ one of them growled. _Punishment for such behaviour warrants the banishment of all parties involved._

"Frankly," Missy said, looking bored in the arms of her captor, "that's all supposition. If we don't have proper identification, how can you charge us with anything? You don't know who we are."

Carter stared dumbly, biting the inside of their cheek. "Erm," they started, "she's right. Sure, supposition, and it's really, very incorrect." They nodded like they knew what they were talking about. 

The Arcateenian that had a hold on Missy held out their machine, ignoring the pair's useless yammering, while the other grabbed Carter's arm and directed it towards the device. 

"Now, hold on," Missy said, but she was interrupted.

 _You will be banished via galactic teleportation device. You will face a just death should you return, as permitted by the Arcan System authority._ Carter's hand was placed on something that resembled a handle, attached to the centre, lost in the middle of the spider's legs. 

"Missy, what are they doing?" they asked nervously. 

"Better not be what I _think_ they're doing, or we're going to have a lot of trouble."

The Arcateenian held the sleek device, and pressed something on their end. Carter began to glow a bright white.

"Missy!" they yelled, but they were already gone.


	6. To Lie, or Not To Lie?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very late update. It's whatever. Enjoy :)

Their scream echoed around them. Not on Arcateen V, however, to their confusion. There weren't any tall buildings that reached the sky, no flowing, glowing individuals that threatened them, speaking in their mind. The first thing that registered, in fact, was that it was now night. It was dark, a harsh dark that hurt their eyes. As they adjusted, pinpricks of light came into view. They resembled vintage street lamps.

They gasped, trying to catch their breath. In a split second thought, they considered that the Arcateenians may not have had the care to send them somewhere with a breathable atmosphere. That thankfully wasn't the case. Maybe the hit squad was legit in their ideals, or maybe it was a happy accident. 

Dropping the device that had brought them here, wherever they were, they jumped at the noise it made against the ground. The loud, metal clang reverberated, just like their yell had, and continued as it rolled away from them on the concrete. 

After all the noises had subsided, silence stretched on. There was nothing, no one around them. They spun their head around furiously, trying to gain an understanding of where they were. 

"Can I help you?" a strong, curious voice said from the shadows. They couldn't see who it was that had spoken.

They stared at where the teleportation — _teleportation_ — device had fallen, for a moment, trying to think of a tangible answer. "I don't think so, no," they said slowly, giving the thing an experimental kick. It rattled around, looking a lot more dead than they had hoped. 

Someone appeared from out of the dark in front of them, and they took a step back. He was tall, with broad shoulders, a sweeping coat, and a cheeky smile. "Out of everyone you could've stumbled upon," he said, making his way closer, "I think I'm one of the few who _can_ help."

"Ominous," they said callously. "Who are you, then?"

"Captain Jack Harkness," he answered, holding out a hand to shake. They didn't take it. "And you are?"

"Carter," they said. Jack used his extended hand to comb his fingers through his hair. They wanted to ask where they were, _when_ they were, but didn't want to let this Captain Jack Harkness know that they were vulnerable. 

"Can I ask who 'Missy' is?"

She frowned. "A friend."

He sighed, dissatisfied with their lack of cooperation. "Why don't we go somewhere that we can talk?" he asked. He almost sounded kind. 

They bit the inside of their cheek. "Captain of what?" 

"Pardon?"

" _'Captain Jack'_ ," they repeated, "you must've earned the title somewhere." If they learned just what he was a captain of, they might gain a clue as to where they were.

"I was a captain in the army," he said testily. "Is that good enough for you?"

"Which army?"

He balked. "The British one," he said confusedly.

Relief washed through their body in a massive tidal wave. They gained some confidence at the familiarity. "Well, you do have an _American_ accent, excuse me for asking."

Captain Jack stepped closer, and they didn't back away. He looked at them through his brows, making his eyes seem as sincere as they could be. "I just want to talk," he said. "Will you come with me? It's cold out here."

They hadn't noticed until he mentioned it. A shiver ran through their body, head to toe, and they nodded, defeated. Their legs were bare, and their socks were thin, doing nothing to combat the cold. 

He hefted what had brought them there. "Should we bring this with us?" He threw it over his shoulder.

"Might need it later," they agreed, their breath fogging in front of them. They wrapped their arms around their body. They'd had what seemed like the longest day in the Arcan System, and it was starting to have its toll on their body. Their eyes drooped, and they followed Jack's directional gesture. He let them go first — not as a gesture of politeness, but to ensure that his eyes were on them at all times. There was no mistaking the fact that he didn't trust them.

Captain Jack took them about twenty paces away from where they'd landed, pulling out a torch to light the way. He directed them to stand next to him, which they did with minimal reluctance. He put his left wrist in front of him, where he wore a thick, leather armband with a plastic cover on the timepiece. When he flipped it up, however, instead of a watch there were various buttons scattered around, and a little screen that faced him. He pressed one of the buttons, and the ground beneath them moved. 

Their heart lept into their throat at the unexpected descent, and they gasped involuntarily. Captain Jack smiled. "Visitors entrance," he said proudly. 

The lift — the invisible lift, Jack would later clarify — took them down into the open underbelly of what looked like quite the operation. There was technology scattered about, wires and levers and switches, and industrial lights that encouraged Jack to turn off his torch. 

"You take it upon yourself to impress everyone this way?" they said, raising an eyebrow at Jack. 

"Only the pretty ones," he winked. 

"I don't think I'm your type."

"Oh, everyone's my type."

"Fine, I don't think you're _my_ type."

He shrugged, smirking. "I make it my job to flirt with all the pretty ladies."

They groaned internally, and their eyes rolled so hard they just about hit the back of their head. "First of all, that's not very classy. Second of all, not a lady."

"Sorry," he surrendered. "Pretty people."

"Better."

The lift reached the ground. Carter said 'ground' conservatively. It was essentially a huge cement pad, littered with various wet spots and bits of condensation of unknown origin. They almost wrinkled their nose, forgetting their manners. Jack took them by the arm, up a set of stairs, and into a board room that didn't match the rest of the place by a long shot.

"Sit," he said, setting the device on the table. "Do you drink coffee?"

They were still hungry from earlier. Coffee might help to fill their stomach, they thought. "Yeah. Just black, please."

"It, uh," he scratched the back of his head, "it'll have to wait a couple of minutes. I called in some of my team before I left, and they'll be here soon, but I can't work that stupid machine for the life of me." He sat across from them, smiling. He was being entirely jovial, but Carter didn't really believe it. "For now, we can just talk."

"What do you want to talk about?"

He nodded his head to the transporter. "Where did you get that?"

"Why should I tell you?" they asked doubtfully, folding their arms and leaning back. 

"Because I meant what I said earlier. I can help you, but only if you let me."

They sighed. "What is this place?"

"Torchwood. We deal with—"

"Oh, I know Torchwood," they said, smiling, glad to have an advantage. "Extraterrestrial defence branch of government, except not _really_ government-aligned. I corresponded with your group about a research mission that I was a part of."

"Really? Which one?"

They paused. _Oh_. "Um, we were researching," they tried to think of a lie, shakily remembering their history, "escape velocity." They swallowed. "You know, the space race and such." 

Jack smiled. " _That_ research mission? Must have been exciting."

They breathed a sigh of relief. "It was. Great opportunity."

"You know," he leaned in, "if you're going to be a time traveller, you have to study up."

"Shit." They blinked. "Fine, I give," they sighed."What year is it?"

"2008." 

"Fuck!" they exclaimed. "Sorry. I mean... are you serious?"

Jack nodded. He checked the clock on the wall. "What year were you born?" he asked, corners of his mouth turning downwards. 

They stuck their hand out across the table. "Carter Thomas, born 2021. They/them pronouns."

He took their hand and gave it a firm shake. "Captain Jack Harkness, born 5085. He/them pronouns."

Their eyebrows flew up to their hairline, and they smiled. "You're a long way from home."

He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back. "It's the people that make it feel like home."

"Poetic."

"One of my many talents."

There was then a series of loud sirens and beeps, accompanied by bright flashing lights. Carter sat up, looking around in worry.

"Jack!" someone called from down below. Jack stood up and walked out of the boardroom, onto the catwalk. 

"Up here, Ianto. Can you start us some coffee? Might be a long night."

"Of course, sir," Ianto called back primly. Unexpected visitors seemed to be a normal thing around here. 

Jack turned around, smiling. He clapped his hands. "Where were we?"

"Your poeticism," they provided. 

"Right. Moving on," he said as he sat down again. "Do you want to tell me how you got here?"

"It's a pretty long story."

"We have time. And coffee."

Carter thought over their options — not that there were many of them. They'd already established that Captain Jack was far more bright than they'd assumed, knew much more about the universe than Carter could ever spin a lie about. They could refuse to talk, though. Jack has to know that they would have trouble trusting him. He might even understand. If they were left alone with the Arcateenian device, they could try to program it back. They were smart. It would take time, but they could figure it out. 

Or, they could tell the truth. Telling Jack everything, however scary, seemed to be the fastest way to achieve their goal. Tell him what happened, garner his sympathy, and have him reprogram the device to go back to Arcateen V. 'Certain death' apparently awaited them, but they had no doubt that Missy would have found her way out of things. _Christ_ , they thought. They sighed.

"Okay," they agreed with a lilt. "I'll tell you everything."

Ianto interrupted their recount a short time after with the promised coffee, setting two steaming cups out on the table. "Sugar? Milk?" He smiled at Carter politely. 

"Just black, thanks." 

Ianto left, and they continued to tell Jack what had happened to them.

Twenty minutes later, mugs empty, Jack sighed and leaned over the table, running a worrying hand through his hair. "You broke _Arcateenian_ law?" he said, exasperated.

"I didn't very well know," they defended themself, giving him a pointed look. 

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Who did you say Missy was, again?"

They were careful not to share too many details about Missy, and it seemed to be posing an issue for Jack. Missy didn't seem like the type of woman who wanted her certain skillset broadcast around for all to hear, so they kept their description to a minimum. 

"Missy's the one I met on my research mission. Saved my life, took me on a trip. Keep up."

"But, you travelled in time. How? Did she have a vortex manipulator, or..." 

"A ship. The TARDIS," they smiled fondly. 

Jack froze. "The TARDIS," he repeated, seemingly in disbelief. 

"Yeah. Have you heard of them?" 

"What did this TARDIS look like?" He loomed over the table, taking a much more serious approach to the conversation. 

They fumbled for an answer. "Well, they," they cleared their throat, "they didn't really stay with one appearance, you know? Camouflage and such. I heard Missy refer to it as a chameleon circuit once," they said, blatantly confused.

Jack's shoulders visibly loosened. "Not the one I'm thinking of, then."

"You know someone with their own TARDIS?" they asked.

He looked into his coffee mug, willing more to appear. "Yeah. Only, I thought he was the last of his kind. That's what he always said, at least."

"Timelord, right?" He nodded. "What was his name?"

"The Doctor."

They furrowed their brow. "Maybe they just don't know of each other." They sighed. "Can you contact the Doctor?"

He laughed. "Barely. Last time I saw him he didn't exactly give me a phone number." 

"Great," they groaned. 

It was at this time that Ianto — who had been listening to the whole conversation via security camera — decided to pop his head in. "Can I interest anyone in more coffee?" He strode across the room, picking up the mugs. Ianto's fingertips brushing against Jack's didn't go unnoticed by Carter. 

"Sure thing," Jack said, smiling up at him. "And you?" He looked at Carter, and they nodded in agreement. "Lovely."

Jack left with Ianto to fetch the coffee, leaving Carter alone. It certainly didn't take two people to make coffee, which meant that being left alone was either an indulgence of Jack and Ianto, or it was a tactical play. 

They sat back, and let out a big yawn that they weren't expecting. Their eyes seemed much drier and much heavier than they did a moment ago. The adrenaline seemed to be wearing off. 

Carter put their head down on the table, figuring that Jack would come back to wake them. 

He did come back, some five minutes later, but he didn't wake them. He instead scooped them up in his arms, their drugged state keeping them unconscious in spite of the movement, and took them to the cell they'd be staying in. 


	7. Precautions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions drugging, misgendering.

A loud growling woke them up. They jumped slightly, almost falling off of the platform they were laid out on, heart leaping to their throat. 

It's a scary thing, waking up and not knowing where you are. Especially when _where you are_ is a dilapidated, grungy old cell that's stained with what looks suspiciously like flecks of blood. They sat up, leaning against the cement wall. They closed their eyes, calming themself down with deep breaths. 

There was that growling noise again.

They looked through the clear barrier of the cell and spotted who — or, rather, what — it was that was making the sound. "Hello, there," they said shakily. "Doing alright?"

They received an angry grumble in response.

"Oh, sorry to hear." They looked around them distractedly, trying to understand just what had happened for them to be in such a tight spot. The last thing they remembered was talking to Jack.

Oh, Jack, that bastard! He must have moved them, locked them up. Somehow. Why couldn't they remember anything after speaking with him? 

And, that wasn't the worst of their problems. They'd told Jack everything he wanted to know. They cooperated, expecting something in return, and they'd been screwed over. "Shit," they breathed, throwing their head back against the wall in frustration. 

They closed their eyes tightly and hissed. "Ow," they groaned. They rubbed the back of their head, moving to stand up. 

"You might want to stay sitting down," a familiar voice called. "The drowsiness takes a bit to wear off."

"Christ, Jack. Am I _this_ untrustworthy?"

He stepped into view, his arms crossed, observing. "Just a precaution. I'm sure you understand."

They brought their legs up on what was supposed to be a bed, heeding his advice. They tucked their knees under their chin, wrapping their arms around them. It was such a childish maneuver, making them look so young, that Jack was reminded of his empathy. 

"I've got our tech expert working on the transporter right now. She's seen this sort of stuff before," he assured. "Shouldn't be too long."

They sighed deeply. "I'm an electrical engineer, if you've forgotten. Two minds are generally better than one."

He shook his head. "Precaution," he reminded them.

"You can _literally_ restrain me. If it'll get me back to Missy faster, I don't care." They narrowed their eyes at him. "Fun guy like you? You're bound to have handcuffs kicking around somewhere."

"A sense of humour, now there's a surprise."

"Or, is Ianto not into bondage?" they continued, eliciting a laugh from Jack. 

"We dabble," he said slyly. He winked.

"So, can I borrow those cuffs, or..." they trailed off, gesturing to the cell walls around them.

Jack tapped the side of his headset, maintaining eye contact. "Tosh?" There was a tinny confirmation on the other end. "How do you feel about some extra hands for that transporter you have up there?" Another garbled response, and Jack walked away without another word. 

Carter stretched their body full length, expecting to wait in the cramped space until 'Tosh' had any answers. The only real benefit to being drugged — not that drugging is encouraged — was the lack of exhaustion in their body. The full-length sleep had renewed them. Most importantly, had renewed their reasoning skills. The refreshment made all of their decisions over the past few days seem a little worse in hindsight. 

"You just going to sit there?" Jack asked, waving a lovely pair of silver handcuffs from behind the barrier. He opened the entrance to the cell, and Carter smiled. 

They stood up, a little too fast, as the spots in their vision reminded them, and stuck their wrists out in front of them, accomplished. Jack fastened the metal with some resounding clicks of the mechanism, and led them to a stairwell that left the little dungeon Carter had grown so fond of. "Bye!" they called to their roaring cellmate, giving a little wave. Jack just gently shoved them through the door. 

* * *

They were sitting silently in a chair, one wrist bound to the arm. Their situation was apparently causing some upset within the team, as the yelling from Jack's office so suggested. 

"You just can't treat her like this, Jack!" 

_Here we go again_ , they thought. 

"It's the safety of everyone here that I'm concerned about, and if they have to suffer for it, then so be it."

"Have you not seen the poor thing?" the woman enunciated, and Carter guessed that she was pointing in their direction. "That girl looks like death! Have you even fed her?"

Carter cleared their throat loudly, startling Toshiko, who sat across from them. "Not a girl!" they shouted across the hub. 

There was a momentary silence in Jack's office. Carter wasn't supposed to hear their argument, they guessed.

"Sorry, love," Gwen stuttered out, stepping out to the platform. "Woman," she corrected, smiling kindly. "Forgot myself."

They toed the ground for something to do. "Not a woman, either, actually." They ran their free hand through their hair. "Non-binary. Not your fault. Still stuck in the gender binary, I get it."

Gwen blinked, her mouth parted slightly. "Right," she said, turning slowly back to Jack. 

"And, for the record," they shouted as an afterthought, "he hasn't actually fed me yet." Their stomach rumbled in agreement. 

They smiled at Toshiko shyly, reaching out to point at one of the variables that had appeared on her computer screen. "That needs changing. 12 gauge wires," they said, lifting one of the stripped pieces for reference.

"You're right!" she said brightly, turning to swiftly type the correction. She was smiling despite the disturbance of Jack and Gwen.

"Glad we finally found you a playmate that can keep up, Tosh," Ianto said, setting a cup of tea down in front of her. He placed a coffee on the table for Carter. "Sorry about the coffee from earlier, by the way. This one doesn't have anything in it that shouldn't be there."

"Thanks," they grinned, taking a grateful sip. 

"And, this is for you, too." He set down a muffin, one of the fancy ones from a classic patisserie, with large, decorative flakes of sugar on top. He smiled down at them. 

"I'll have to consider being a prisoner more often," they joked, lifting the muffin for inspection. Ianto walked off with the other mugs he had yet to hand out, and Carter started peeling the wrapper away. Or, tried to unwrap it the best they could with one hand. 

"Oh," Tosh tsked, "let me get that." She reached across the table, lifted the food, and set it back in their hand, ready to eat. She leaned over, tossing out the garbage. Carter simply ate their muffin in silence while she continued to work. 

The food went down gorgeously paired with the coffee, and Carter was soon back to poking and prodding at the device with Tosh's tools, a satisfied feeling in their chest. Gwen stormed out of Jack's office a few minutes later with a huff, sitting back at her own desk in a passive-aggressive pout. Carter kept their head down.

The day left them quickly. Tosh and Carter had made exceptional progress on the reprogramming, enjoying each other's company a little more than was strictly necessary. Ianto was somewhere in the archives, Gwen was gathering her things, and Owen was already heading out the door. Jack hadn't left his office. 

Tosh pushed away what she was working on, rubbing at her eyes. "Continue this tomorrow?" she asked. 

"Yeah," Carter agreed politely, disappointed that they couldn't keep going.

Gwen walked over to the two of them just as Tosh started clearing things off. "Has Jack told you where you'll be staying tonight yet?" she asked Carter. 

They reeled. "Well, I'd assumed I would go back to the cell I was in earlier." They gestured to their cuffed hand. "Precaution, and all."

Gwen's face pinched in sympathy. "No, no, that's not right, dear. I'll go have a chat with Jack, you can stay with one of us." Before they could protest, she was already up the stairs, taking them two at a time. 

Tosh smiled at them. "She means well. Even if it means she cares too much," she said quietly, tucking papers away in her drawers. 

"I'm fine here, really. I've got a friend down in the cells, they'll keep me company."

"You mean the weevil?" she said disbelievingly.

"That's what they're called? Seems like a lovely fellow." Tosh giggled. "They even growled hello," they smiled. 

Tosh shut down her computer and threw her purse over her arm. "This is all up to Jack, you know," she said slowly, "but I have a free couch in my flat if you'd like it. Gwen's just got back from her honeymoon, I'm sure she and Rhys would appreciate the break."

Carter shook their head sweetly. "You don't have to do that. You don't have to offer."

"But I am."

Jack's office door slammed open, causing them to jump. "Carter," he called, "are you okay with staying in the cells?"

They put on a smile. "Of course."

"See? What did I say? They're—"

"Of course, they can always stay with me," Tosh said hopefully. "I've got an open couch that's much comfier than those racks down there."

Jack looked skyward, calling for some sort of divine help. "This is all sounding very familiar, Tosh. Remember what happened with Mary? Someone shows up, grand story, _Arcateenian transporter_. How similar does it have to be?"

"What, this has happened before?" Carter asked.

"Not quite," Tosh said. "That was different. Please, just let me give them a chance at a good night's rest." She stared at Jack imploringly, with big, round eyes. "I'll sleep with my gun under my pillow if it'll make you feel better."

Jack sighed. He slowly joined them on the lower floor, brandishing a key that glinted in the light. He took Carter's wrist in his hand, removing the handcuffs. "If you so much as _touch_ her," he warned. 

They gulped. "Wouldn't dream of it."


	8. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: semi-graphic description of a blood test, more mentions of drugging

The ride to Tosh's place was more than a little awkward. Tosh exclusively drove the speed limit in her work sanctioned SUV, following all of the rules of the road like religion. She put music on the radio, playing at a soft level, but it was all too old for Carter to recognize. Neither of them talked, really. 

When they arrived at the flat, Tosh unlocked the door, letting Carter go first. It was a quaint little apartment, conservatively furnished. There was even a comfy looking couch in the living room, as promised. 

Tosh set her things down on the counter and opened the fridge. "Do you drink?" she asked. 

"Depends on what you've got."

She hummed a bit as she searched. "There's beer, some wine — red _and_ white." She stood up and took the time to smile at Carter. "Your choice."

They shrugged, moving about the apartment nervously. "I'll just have whatever you're having."

Tosh grabbed two wine glasses from the cupboard above her, which forced her to stand on the tips of her toes. She set them down, fetched a bottle from the fridge, and started pouring. "Red it is, then." She handed a glass to Carter and invited them to join her on the couch. 

"So," Tosh breathed, grinning sweetly, "Jack really hasn't told us much about you. Where are you from?"

As difficult as that question was to explain, Tosh seemed genuine. The dimples in her smile, the glint in her eyes; it was too much to be faking. But, they'd trusted Jack, too. They felt they'd been made an idiot of, but, ultimately, they'd known what they were getting into at the time. It was a gamble, and they'd lost.

Maybe they'd learn their lesson about frivolous trust someday, but, for now, Tosh's kind eyes were too hard to resist. 

"Canada," they said simply. 

"Oh? That's exotic. Haven't met too many Canadians," she giggled. "How did you end up with the Arcateenians, then?"

They sucked on their teeth. "I was with a friend. She was going travelling, she invited me to come along." They took a long swig of the fruity, sweet alcohol.

"You mean Missy?"

They gave Tosh a look from the corner of their eye. "I thought Jack was keeping you in the dark."

Tosh sipped at her drink guiltily. "Just curious," she explained. She sat back, letting the cushions hold her head up. "Who's Missy, Carter?"

"Who's Mary?"

Tosh closed her eyes. "I just want to help you, you know."

Carter laughed, without humour. "That's exactly what Jack said. Right before he put a sleeping pill in my coffee." They folded their legs underneath them, twisting to face Tosh fully. "What I think you all fail to understand," they said, "is that I'm happy to cooperate. If Jack had asked me about restraints before he drugged me, about the safety of his team, I'd have listened. Probably would have complied, even." They stared into their wine glass, watching the liquid swirl around. "You don't have to be sneaky about things. I'm a generally open person, or I at least try my best." They smiled with a self-deprecating air. "Therapy does that to you."

"I'm sorry. Never meant..." she trailed off. She let out a deep sigh. "Why don't we talk about things other than work, hm? Let's talk about you. Any family?"

Carter cringed. This wasn't any better than it was before. "No," they smiled ruefully. "You?"

Tosh sighed. "Parents, grandparents, but they live in London." She stared at the wall in front of her. "I had a brother, but he's gone now."

Carter set their wine down on the coffee table, stuffing their hands into their lap. "This is a minefield," they admitted. 

Giggling, Tosh agreed. She took a final sip of her wine before setting it beside Carter's. "I think that's enough with questions for the night," she said, grabbing the remote to the TV. "Any requests?"

"Not really, no. I wouldn't even know half the programs."

"Don't watch cable that often?"

"You could say that."

* * *

Carter accepted the proffered nightshirt from Tosh. "Thanks." The couch had since been fitted with sheets for them, and they'd had a shower, too. It felt nice to be clean, for once. 

"Have a good sleep," Tosh said, ducking her head. "I'll be up at around six tomorrow, we can leave at seven. You can borrow some of my clothes, if you want."

"Again," Carter smiled, "thank you." 

Tosh turned and headed for her room, leaving Carter on their own. They looked back at Tosh's door, made sure she was in for the night, and changed out of their clothes. 

It felt amazing to lie down on something that wasn't as hard as a rock. Even in space, the sleeping arrangements weren't entirely comfortable. The couch was a modest replacement for the lovely bed on Missy's TARDIS, but it'd have to do. 

They wished they could have enjoyed a dreamless sleep. They were hoping for one. Dreams hadn't bothered them since before they met Missy, whether because of exhaustion or sleeping aids, but they were making a strong comeback.

Carter didn't really have 'nightmares.' At least, they wouldn't call them nightmares. They'd feel uneasy, strange, maybe, but they'd never felt fear or dread. 

Tonight was a brand new experience. 

Missy was in front of them, the same as she always was. Deep purple skirts, sonic umbrella, wild hair. But, she looked afraid. They had never seen that look on her before. It didn't seem like an expression that fit her face, and the oddity of it was enough to make the feeling spread to Carter.

They felt a cold, dripping sensation start at their head, going down their back, giving them a sharp pain wherever it touched, like an enhanced headache. Their chest weighed down, and it got harder to breathe. Their heart was banging inside their chest, hard enough to be felt at the tips of their toes. 

Missy's expression changed. Abruptly, she looked furious. She had her laser in hand, just where Carter had last seen it. She fired, burning a hole through their abdomen. They could smell the burning of their clothes, the burning of their flesh, and they felt sick.

They were brought back to consciousness, sweaty and clammy. The lights were on in the kitchen. 

"You okay, there, Carter?" Tosh called. She knew they weren't okay, but her mother had brought her up with respect. 

"Fine," they gasped, sitting up. They popped their head over the back of the couch, watching Tosh make herself breakfast. Well, breakfast for the two of them. It would have been thoughtful if they still had an appetite. In the meantime, they made their way unsteadily to the washroom, planning an exciting cold water splashing session.

* * *

At the Hub, Carter was reintroduced to their shackles from the day before. They were sat at Tosh's desk again, fiddling with the transporter. It was half destroyed, really, its innards splayed out all over the table, a massive puzzle to be put back together with the proper workings. 

Carter rubbed their eyes. Tosh looked up at them. "Rough night?" she asked conversationally. 

Their face hardened. She was purposefully talking around a topic that they didn't actually want to discuss. "No," they snipped, tight-lipped. "Slept like a baby."

Tosh raised her eyebrows. She picked up a wire stripper, tying two strands of copper together. Or, the Arcateenian equivalent of copper. "We can talk about it, you know," she murmured. "Everyone has bad dreams."

They had initially had trouble making sense of their nightmare. Missy would never hurt them, they thought. They had so much trust in her, they let her take them across the universe.

And, then, it clicked. 

They had so much faith that she would protect them, that they were afraid. Missy had made a comment in passing, when Ryan and Devries were still alive, and they'd disregarded it at the time — but, now, it was all they could think about. Missy had killed people before, and now she was trying to kick the habit. Carter was riddled with anxiety at the thought that she might not have enough self-restraint to stop herself from hurting the Arcateenians that had sent them there. 

They knew Missy was powerful. They were okay with that. But, if Missy did end up hurting someone, or worse, could they walk away from her? 

She was mesmerizing, like every wonder of the cosmos all packed into one woman. And, she was dangerous.

"Not me," they smiled. "None to speak of."

"Right," Tosh nodded. "But, if you change your mind, I'm right across the desk."

Carter stared at their pieces of the puzzle, willing Tosh to drop the topic. Not everything had to be talked to death, and certainly not with Tosh. 

Just then, Owen took it upon himself to interrupt. "S'cuse me, ladies," he said, "but, I need to borrow Carter, here, for a bit."

"What for?" Tosh asked.

"Just standard medical observation, Jack's orders."

Carter nodded along jokingly. "So, confirming that I'm actually as human as I say I am, yeah?"

"Yeah." Unfortunately for them, he didn't find the conversation to be a funny one.

They gestured to their handcuffs. "Can't exactly get up of my own accord." 

He tossed a key in his hand, unlocking the cuff attached to the chair, and then putting it right back on their other wrist. "Now you can," he said. 

"Aren't you just a bundle of laughs," Carter mumbled, standing up to follow him. 

In Torchwood's med bay, they passed their blood pressure test, their eye exam, their temperature taking, and their physical exam. Everything appeared human, just as they knew it would. All that was left was a blood test. 

"Right, arm here," Owen instructed, pointing. He got an elastic blue band from a drawer filled with vials, needles and cotton pads, and put it around their upper arm, pulling it tight. 

They hissed at the sudden loss of blood to their limb. "A little warning would've been nice," they complained, avoiding looking at the needle he was prepping. He swabbed the crease of their elbow with alcohol, flicking the area slightly to bring the vein to the surface. 

"I feel like now's a good time to say," they said breathlessly, "that I have a history of passing out at times like this."

He slid the needle in, and their heart started racing. They took deep, shaky breaths. They'd never been good at this part. They flexed their hand, making a fist that was far too tight.

Owen looked up at their face, a little bit of his icy exterior chipping away. He switched out the vials. "Almost done," he assured. "Two more to go."

Carter's vision started to get fuzzy around the edges, darkness creeping in. Their ears were ringing. 

"Last one," he said, setting the second vial down. They could just barely hear him, sounding like their head was completely submerged underwater. They squeezed their eyes shut to get rid of the spots in front of them.

He pulled the needle out. "Done," he said, but Carter was already crashing down into his arms. "Bloody—" he swore, trying to catch them without dropping the vial. "Can I get some help over here?" he shouted to no one in particular, Carter draped over his shoulder. 

Gwen came rushing in, gun at the ready. "What did you do?" she incriminated, rushing down the steps. 

"I just did a blood test, it's fine," he groused. "Just help me lay them down." He sighed at the removal of the dead weight, helping Gwen flop Carter down onto one of his gurneys. They were typically meant for dead bodies, but it'd have to do. Tosh stumbled over her feet as she rushed into the room, glasses shoved haphazardly on the top of her head. 

The three of them looked at Carter in silence, surveying their limp body sprawled over the gurney, their arm already starting to bruise. 

Tosh stepped down to join them, slowly. "They're squeamish," she said. She slapped Owen on the shoulder, punctuated by an 'ow!' from the man himself. " _That's_ what you scared me half to death for?"

He rubbed his arm. "Bloody hell, woman!"

Tosh tutted, ignoring him, arranging Carter into a more comfortable position. She reached over the still grumbling Owen, grabbing a cotton ball to tape to their arm. She sat down next to them, applying pressure. Gwen and Owen watched. 

She looked back at them, surprised they were still there. "Well? Haven't you got things to do?" she asked. They jumped out of their trance, bumping into each other in their rush to busy themselves. Tosh looked at Carter, sighing. "That's what I thought," she told them. 


	9. Desires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short and sweet little update, as a treat. It's basically just me having fun with Tosh and Carter before it gets more action-packed.

Carter slowly regained their consciousness, keeping their eyes closed. They could feel a hand in theirs, warm and solid against their clamminess. The inside of their left elbow was burning. 

"Fuck," they groaned, screwing their face. They tossed their head back against the sheets beneath them, drawing out their moan of pain dramatically, and someone next to them giggled. They blinked one eye open against the harsh lights. 

"You're squeamish," Tosh said, grinning. 

They sighed. "I told him. This happens all the time." They tried to sit up, bracing against Tosh's arm. 

"No, no, no," she said hurriedly, using her other hand to stop Carter, keep them laying down. "I've asked Ianto for some sweet tea, but you should lie down until we can get sugar in you."

They glared, pushing themself up further, leaning against the wall behind them. "I'm fine."

Tosh snickered indelicately. "Tell that to your face," she teased. "You look worse than my grandad." 

"Hey!" they protested, hitting her arm weakly. "No offence to your grandad," they said tiredly, watching her through half-lidded eyes, "but that's rude."

Ianto knocked on the railing, signalling his intrusion. "Tea," he called, coming down the steps and setting the cup down next to them. "Glad to see you're awake."

"I really did enjoy the nap, I have to say."

"Come on," Tosh smiled, reaching for the tea. "Just drink this."

The tea, which they would have preferred black, was nearly white with how much milk was in it. They didn't doubt that there were quite a few packets of sugar in there, too. "Is there any tea in that?" they asked.

Ianto hummed. "Tea, three teaspoons of sugar, and just about all of the milk we have," he grinned. 

Tosh helped them grip the cup and take a sip. They pulled a face, scrunching their nose. "That's ghastly," they coughed. 

"I think," Ianto said, "it could do with some more sugar."

"God, please, no more," they laughed, taking another sip of the awful, hot drink. It was well worth the disgust, though. Their blood sugar already felt like it was spiking, and they could sit up a little further without feeling the full effects of the nausea from before. 

"You're good here, then?" Ianto asked, stepping back to the stairs.

"Peachy," they said. He took the confirmation as his ticket out of the med bay, leaving Tosh and Carter alone once more.

When Carter couldn't stomach any more of the sickening tea, Tosh helped them set it down beside them. "That's really not necessary," they said. 

Tosh breathed a laugh incredulously. "Your hands were shaking," she pointed out.

"I'm fine," they insisted, pushing themself to the edge of the gurney, making to stand up. Tosh immediately gripped their wrists, holding them down.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, while Carter continued to maneuver themself to the floor. Realizing she couldn't fight the stubborn, pigheaded, _frustrating_ person in front of her anymore, she helped them along, bracing their forearms and taking the bulk of their weight. 

Carter was out of breath from the exertion, and still shaky on their legs. "Back to work," they said, confused as to why that wasn't the obvious answer.

Tosh sighed. "Will you at least take a break?" She thought back to Carter, on her couch, tossing and, worst of all, talking in their sleep. Nothing that they'd said was entirely coherent, but 'Missy' was a common phrase. They had sounded scared. It gave Tosh a very uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, one which was returning just now. Carter was putting their safety at risk to get back to Missy, and it scared her. "Please?"

They bit their lip, looking into Tosh's big, pleading eyes. They shrugged, sitting back down. "Only if you insist," they murmured. Tosh smiled gratefully, sitting down next to them. She desperately tried to push the worrying, nagging thoughts from her head.

* * *

They spent the rest of the afternoon working on the transporter. Tosh even offered to stay late with Carter to speed along the process, while Gwen, Owen and Ianto left early together.

Jack was left in his office, filling in paperwork, when he joined Tosh and Carter in the central area of the Hub. "Tosh?" She was in the midst of mumbling a delightful anecdote to Carter; he only got a hum of acknowledgement in response. "I heard this sound," he said conspiratorially. "An old sound, like a pipe organ." 

"A what?" she asked, entirely distracted from the point she was trying to make.

"Did you guys hear anything?" he asked instead, refusing to expand on the topic. 

Tosh looked helplessly at Carter. "No," she said slowly, her eyebrows furrowed.

"No pipe organs here," they confirmed. 

He sighed, rubbing at his jaw. "Is there a circus in town? Or, a travelling fair, something like that?"

"On a night like this? They'd be wasting their time."

Carter shook their head. "Yeah, what's this about, anyway?"

"Where's Ianto?" he asked, ignoring every probing question. "He would know."

Tosh hummed, thinking, not looking up from the tedious task of threading wire she'd since taken on. "He's gone to the cinema with Gwen and Owen. Some kind of opening night he wanted to check out." She pursed her lips, focussing. "The building's got a record of rift activity," she continued, "but it's been quiet for years, so—"

She looked up at Carter when they tapped on her forearm. "He's gone already," they told her.

Tosh cleared her throat, going back to the task at hand. "Oh," she said. 

Carter smiled. "You can tell me the rest of the story if you want," they offered. Tosh smiled, continuing to talk mindlessly while the two of them worked.

* * *

The two were pulled away from their work about an hour later. Something had happened wherever Gwen, Owen and Ianto were, but no one seemed willing to divulge the information to Carter. Jack argued that they shouldn't be left out of sight, but the whole team's presence was required; which meant Carter involuntarily joining everyone in Jack's office, cuffed again to the chair they were sitting in. 

Tosh left them to set the reel in the projector, letting footage play that seemed inconsequentially old to Carter. Nothing that dated could hold any information of importance, they thought. 

"I knew those two," Jack said, to Carter's confusion. "They argued day and night." 

Owen huffed. "That _is_ you. All right, now I've seen everything."

"I told you so," Ianto bragged.

Carter's mouth hung open a fraction. "Hold on—"

"Oh," Owen cringed, "I forgot you were here."

"Thanks," they griped. They turned to Jack. "How can that be you? I might not be used to this decade's technology, but that looks old, and _you_ don't," they said, pointing at him. 

He cringed, like he'd had this conversation too many times before. "I can't die," he said simply.

"Oh, word?"

Tosh burst into giggles behind the projector. "Sorry," she said, not sounding very sorry. She cleared her throat. "Don't mind me." Carter smiled, turning to watch the film that had kept going while they were talking. The acts had all flown by, and a strongman was up now, showing off his insanely, unrealistically huge muscles. 

Gwen sighed contentedly. "I do love his leotard," she said. 

The aforementioned leotard was replaced now by a small group of people, smiling and waving at the camera. "The Night Travellers," Jack announced disbelievingly. 

Tosh shook her head. "The what?"

"Tosh, play that back," he ordered. She moved the tape back, per his request. "So, they did exist," he breathed. 

"Did you work with these people?" she asked.

"I didn't work with them. I never knew anyone who did," he admitted. "They only performed in the dead of night. It was just a tale that was around at that time — a ghost story. They came from out of the rain. That's how people described them."

The tape ran out, letting Gwen, Owen and Jack filter out of the room to do their usual duties. Tosh made to disassemble the unit, but Ianto stopped her with an outstretched hand. "Can you run it frame by frame?" he asked. 

"Er, sure," she stammered, reversing the reel. "What are you looking for?"

"I'm not sure. Something's wrong." He sat forward, getting closer to the projected screen. "Something's missing."

* * *

After Tosh had set up a system to notify her of any sightings of the circus performers that had disappeared from the tape, she joined Carter again with the transporter. 

Carter felt like they were taking Tosh from something more important. The rest of her team was in the conference room, going over all the information they had at hand, and she was sitting here, doing some petty engineering. 

"You don't have to stay here, you know," they said, trying to ease their conscience. 

Tosh looked up, her brows pulled together. "What do you mean?"

They gave her a look. "Your team's up there, talking strategy, and you're here with me, destroying a circuit board. I can do this on my own."

She set her tools down, pursed her lips, and looked up at the conference room. "They can handle themselves without me," she said. Carter thought she sounded disappointed.

"I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about you." Their eyes followed where she was looking, then looked right at her from across the desk, drawing her eyes to theirs. "Do you want to be here?"

Tosh looked taken aback that someone could ever be considering her wants, her desires. It had taken her a long time, but she'd made a family at Torchwood. She liked it here. But, it wasn't her choice to join the team, originally. It was this or that small, dirty cell at the UNIT detention centre. For a brief moment, she could almost smell the pungent stink of the place, bringing back far too many memories, and she had to physically shake the sensations from her head. 

She tried to smile, reassuring herself. "I want to help _you_. If you really want to get back to Missy, I want to help. They'll be okay, for now."

"'If I really want to get back to Missy'?" they repeated. "What does that mean?"

Tosh ducked her head. "Well, we both know I heard you last night. You sounded... distressed, I think is the word for it." She cleared her throat. "What about you? What do you want?"

Carter stared at their hands, avoiding Tosh's gaze. "I want," they started weakly, not entirely sure how they were going to end the sentence. "I think— I mean, what I want is..." Tosh grabbed their hands, surprising them. She held them together at the middle of the desk, surrounded by loose machinery, waiting patiently. "I want _more_. I want there to be more to life than a day job. I want every day to be just like that _one_ amazing day that I had with her." They swallowed at the lump in their throat, not entirely expecting this realization. "I can't tie myself down. I'd go mad."

Tosh smiled sweetly, letting go of their hands. "Then we get back to work," she declared, picking up her soldering iron. 


	10. Bastard John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the season two finale of Torchwood ahead — tread carefully.

She stayed with them for two more days, the nights of which Carter slept on her couch again, until she was required in the field. Carter had gained a little bit of trust from Jack — seeing as they hadn't tried any daring escapes for almost a full week — so when they argued that being left alone could be potentially dangerous for them, he had Tosh rig the comms so they went through the computer at Tosh's desk. If anything were to happen, they'd be able to hear it. Eavesdropping aside, they didn't want to be left in the Hub without access to basic amenities if the team couldn't make it back.

They were piecing together the finishing touches on the circuit board with Tosh's soldering iron, putting the whole unit back together. It was down to a matter of minutes now. They were upset that Tosh couldn't be there with them to cross the finish line, but the voices sounding from the speaker reminded them of her more important responsibilities.

"So, sure they're not Weevils?" Despite the technology being more dated than Carter was used to, the comm system at Torchwood had a very realistic clarity to it. It almost sounded like Owen was right in the room with them.

"Don't think so." That was Tosh's voice. "Different energy patterns. I can't make sense of it. Not a species we've encountered before."

"Well, let's hope they're friendly, then."

They could hear the sounds of the car engine coming to a halt, the doors opening and closing. They could even hear the gravel crunching beneath their feet. 

Jack gave the orders. "Owen, Ianto, take the other side of the building. Check the upper floors. Toshiko, with me."

They left their earpieces on, for Carter's sake, letting them listen to everyone, even as the group split up. For a while, the only sounds were footsteps and quiet breathing, until Jack spoke, presumably to Tosh.

"Okay? Go." They heard Tosh's machine make some beeping noises that punctuated its effectiveness. 

"I'm getting mirror readings on both floors," she said. "One creature at either end of the building." 

There was a pause. "Toshiko, split up."

Like being subject to a horror movie, Carter listened helplessly, cringing. 

"You know," Jack said, "these creatures are very quiet." 

"Maybe they're sleeping," Owen suggested.

"Or, hatching," Ianto added unhelpfully. 

Carter could hear someone gasp quietly. Then, Tosh spoke, sounding rather anxious. "Or, maybe they aren't creatures at all." 

There were heavy footsteps, quick in their succession. "Just explosive devices," Jack said. _Just?_ they thought. 

"Snap," said Owen, failing spectacularly at framing the severity of the situation. Then, there was a loud bit of feedback, and the line went dead. 

Carter's heart dropped to their stomach. They leaned over the desk the best they could with their wrist stuck to the arm of their chair, pulling it along with them a little to tap on the keys of the computer. They had watched Tosh set the system up in the first place, making it easy for them to adjust it to accept input on the comm channel. "Hello?" they said, hoping for a swift response. "Can anyone hear me?"

There was nothing from the other end. 

Their heartbeat picked up a little, and they jumped into action. They picked up the soldering iron from where it lay, taking it to the chain of their handcuffs. It took just under a minute to eat through the metal, letting them move around freely. They went to the computer, which Tosh had left signed in, and opened the initial report of the activity that had called the team out in the first place. They used the address to find a route they could take, scribbling a crude map on the back of their hand for reference. 

Now, for the door. As far as they were aware, there were only two exits to the Hub — the cogwheel and the lift. They didn't have an access code to get past the cogwheel, and they didn't know of any other way to call the lift than Jack's wristband. But, the fact that Jack could even use his wristband to call the lift in the first place gave them an idea as to how it worked. Evidently, it accepted signal commands. 

Still in front of the computer, they navigated the program as best they could, searching for diagnostics of the Hub. They found readings of other sensors easily, tracking things like artron energy, even weather patterns, but it took them a while to find the reports for radio waves. It took them even longer still to narrow down to when they'd arrived in Cardiff in the first place, but they finally found exactly what they were looking for. 

The night that they'd shown up out of the blue, there was a large spark in artron energy, probably what alerted Jack to their presence in the first place. But, on a different report, not five minutes later there was a very small hint of radio wave activity — so small it would go completely unnoticed unless you knew exactly where to look. They filtered out the residual radio waves with a few clicks, leaving them with the exact frequency that the invisible lift responded to. 

Carter smiled victoriously.

They typed a simple command that they hoped would work, squeezing their eyes shut in a silent plea. They hit enter, and the sounds of the lift echoed around them. "Ha!" they exclaimed, temporarily resolving the anxious pit in their stomach. They waited for the lift to reach the ground, then sent it back up, bolting away from the computer. They could only control it from the desktop monitor, giving them a very limited window to hop on. 

The lift was about four feet off the platform when they got to it, making it a difficult climb. They jumped up, pulling themself over the edge, dangling precariously while it continued up. They laid down on the stone slab, heaving deep breaths, relieved that they had managed their way up. 

Carter stood as they reached the open air, taking a good look around. They'd emerged in the Roald Dahl Plass, an open area, with no cars in sight. They took off running, heading between a pair of buildings in the distance, aiming to get to the next street over. There they were luckier, coming upon four cars of average make, parked at either side of the road. They weighed their options briefly, ultimately deciding on the Honda to their left. Forty years from now, Hondas were shitty cars, barely held together by cheap nuts and bolts. You were lucky if it hovered a foot off the ground. Stick with what you know, they thought.

One of the windows was open a crack, so they slid their fingers in, using brute force to widen the opening a bit. The alarm didn't even go off, and they thanked Honda for their appalling manufacturing. Once it was wide enough, they squeezed their arm in as far as it would go, leaning at an awkward angle. They unlocked the car from the inside, opening the door. 

A minute later, and the car was hotwired, the engine running. They would have had it done faster, but the technology was different, much older than they were accustomed to. They drove off without further preamble; on the side of the road opposite what they were used to, twenty miles over the speed limit, and without a valid driver's license. 

* * *

Barely a ten-minute drive and they arrived at the warehouse, a bundle of nerves. They didn't even pause to let the car come to a stop, almost forgetting to put it in park, scrambling out of the vehicle and towards the smouldering building. 

"Tosh?" they called, running through the door to the first building. "Tosh!" They went to the right, choosing where they stepped carefully. It was a nauseating thought, but any of them could be caught under the rubble they were stepping on. 

A shrill, piercing scream broke the air, freezing the blood in Carter's veins. "Tosh!" they shouted, following the sound further into the destruction. They just barely saw a hardly noticeable shift of movement in the pile of bricks ahead of them. It was Tosh, twitching in pain. 

They ran over, kneeling next to the upper half of her body. She was pinned under a fallen pillar, covered in dust and dirt.

"Tosh, look at me," they said, brushing some hair out of her face. She groaned in pain and squeezed her eyes shut. They put their head closer to the ground, face to face with Tosh. "Look at me, please," they said evenly, trying to soothe and calm. Tosh opened her eyes, breaths coming far too quickly. "You're going to be fine, okay? You're tough stuff. Jack's in the other part of the building. He'll be here soon, I know it. Then we can get you out."

Tosh took a deep, shaky breath in through her nose. "Okay," she agreed, nodding as much as her head would allow and wincing in pain. 

"Try not to move," they encouraged, laying with her in the mess of fallen brick. 

Then, there were voices calling Tosh's name in the distance. One of them was definitely Jack, just as Carter had promised. "Over here!" they yelled, moving to kneel in the same spot. They wanted to be higher up for better visibility, but they didn't want to leave Tosh by herself. 

Three silhouettes came into view through the settling dust in the air. Gwen had arrived, apparently just after Carter, with someone they didn't recognize in tow.

Jack scowled at them. "How did you get here?" he asked.

They reeled, a little disconcerted at his focus of the conversation. "Is that really important right now?" they asked him. "Just help me lift this pillar before it crushes her, and I'll be out of your way."

He was far from happy, but he nodded stiffly. He joined them in circling the pillar to find the best spot to grip. "C'mon, Rhys, help us lift. Gwen, pull her out once it's off her."

Carter's ears perked. "Rhys? You mean, Gwen's husband?"

"Yeah," Rhys said, "and who are you?"

They stuck out their hand around the crushing weight on Tosh. "Carter, work friend. Lovely to meet you," they smiled politely. He gave them a hesitant handshake, then bent his knees to prepare for the strain. Gwen knelt down beside him, putting her hands on Tosh's shoulders tightly. 

"Okay," Jack announced, "on the count of three." He shuffled his feet against the gravel. "One, two, three!" he called, grunting at the weight in his hands, feet slipping. Carter was far more exposed than he was — they had bare legs from the knee down, and bare hands, both of which were being shredded by the rough stone. 

The pillar was about a half a foot further off the ground than it was before, and Tosh found that she could move. More than that, she was moving not of her own accord, being ripped across the floor by Gwen before it came back down. As soon as she was out of the way, they all let it fall to the ground, sighing in relief. Carter stepped over the pieces of rubble in their way, approaching Tosh cautiously. 

"Broken arm," she wheezed, "bruised ribs. I'll be fine."

Carter laughed breathlessly. "I'd hug you right now if the pain wouldn't knock you right out."

"Please, do. A little nap would do me a world of good."

Jack, having caught his breath, straightened up. "I've gotta go find Ianto," he said, jogging out of the building. 

Gwen still sat next to Tosh, giving her hand a little squeeze. "You alright, here, love? I'll be back, I promise." Tosh nodded her head absently, and Gwen got up, reaching for Rhys. The two of them went to help Jack, unsteady on the rubble. 

Carter put their arm around Tosh, tenderly prodding the arm she was nursing. "Looks like a stable fracture," they determined. "Should heal nicely with a cast." Tosh didn't answer, and instead tried her hand at standing up. "Oh, we're ready to go, now?" they asked, racing to brace her as she struggled. 

She stood leaning against Carter, barely her full height, tucking her arm against her chest like a bird who'd broken a wing. She tried to take a step but slipped at the first change in footing. "Alright, alright, take it easy," they murmured, switching their position so their hands were at her waist. It wouldn't do to hurt Tosh's arm even further. 

Together, slowly, awkwardly, they made it out and into the open. Tosh squinted at the sunlight. "Where's the SUV?"

Carter looked around in surprise. They were into too much of a hurry when they'd arrived to notice that there wasn't even a car parked out front. Gwen's car and Carter's stolen Honda were the only ones left. 

"This is starting to look like one massive trap," they said.

"You think?"

"Tosh!" Owen shouted from across the way, Gwen and Rhys beside him. "You okay?"

She stood up a little straighter, leaning less on Carter. "Broken arm, but I'll be fine," she assured. Ianto and Jack, looking rough around the edges, joined them all as well. 

Gwen turned to Jack, looking worried. "Who's done this?" 

"And, where's the SUV?" Ianto asked. He looked down at Jack's wrist strap, his attention drawn by the flashing light it was emitting. "Oh, no," he groaned. 

Gwen shifted nervously. "Jack, what does he want?"

"What does who want?" Carter questioned. At that, a hologram of a man in dated clothing projected itself from Jack's band, giving them the answer they were looking for. They all watched anxiously as he began to speak.

"Ooh," he all but sang, "deja vu. Or, did I say that already?" He smiled. "Hey, team. Of course, there might be a few less of you by now. Don't know if you liked my little gift." He looked right at Jack, making Carter question whether this was actually a recording, or if it was a live connection. "Of course, you can't die. And with all that life, all that time, you can't spare any for me. Oh, say hi to the family."

Another hologram appeared next to him, a man of similar height, but stockier and wider. Jack seemed to recognize whoever he was teasing him with, and his face hardened. "No way. It can't be."

"Can't be _who_?" Carter interjected, desperate for answers.

"Been a while since you've seen your brother, eh, Jack?" 

Jack looked faint. "Gray?" he whispered.

The man, hologram, took a breath. "Okay, here's what's going to happen. Everything you love, everything you treasure, will die. I'm going to tear your world apart, Captain Jack Harkness, piece by piece. Starting now." He grinned a little. "Maybe now you'll want to spend some time with me."

The transmission ended, and Carter was left feeling sick. "Who the hell was that?" they asked, to nobody in particular. 

"Bastard John," Owen grumbled. 

"Captain 'Bastard' John Hart," Ianto corrected, "and it looks like he's taken the SUV back to the Hub."

"So, you've dealt with him before, I gather?" The glares they received said it all. 

Tosh checked her scanner. "I'm getting readings of rift activity all over the city," she said. "Major rift flares at St. Helen's Hospital, the Police Headquarters and the Central IT Server Station."

Gwen's phone rang as they limped to the cars. "Hey, Andy?" She paused. "Okay, I'm on my way, alright?" She hung up, tucking the phone back in the pocket of her jeans. 

Jack walked in front of everyone with a purpose, ready to give orders. "We split up. Rhys, Owen, Gwen and me in one car, Tosh, Ianto and Carter in the other. Rhys can drop Owen at the hospital, Gwen, the police station, and take me to Torchwood. Tosh, Ianto, Carter, you'll cover the Central Server building. 

"Jack," Tosh piped up, "these are traps."

"So be careful. You know what he's capable of."

Carter raised their hand. "Technically, I don't." Everyone silently, collectively, chose to ignore them.

Gwen walked around to the passenger side of the car, sighing. "What about you?" she asked, nodding to Jack.

He rocked on his heels, hands in his pockets. "I'm gonna go reason with him."

"He just tried to kill us," Owen pointed out.

"I was the only one who could ever control him. That's why the Time Agency partnered us."

Rhys' eyes doubled in size. "Did you just say 'Time Agency'? Don't tell me that's based in Cardiff too."

Carter smiled, climbing in the driver's side of their car. Ianto got in the backseat, raising his eyebrows. "So, you're driving, then? Where'd you even get the car?"

"Side of the road. Broke in." They waved their hand through the air, brushing off the exasperated look he gave them. "I'll give it back, it's fine."

He huffed. "Say that again when _you_ have to file all the paperwork." He clipped his seatbelt in place just in time for them to take off, grabbing the overhead bar at the sudden acceleration. "Bloody hell," he exclaimed. "You're a worse driver than Jack."


	11. A Thesbian Icon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: descriptions of explosive blasts, blood loss, and the usual action-packed drama.

They pulled the car up to the side of the Central Server building, jolting the car angrily to a stop. "There," they said, proud of their handling. "Not too bad of a driver, am I?"

Ianto groped at the handle to his door, stumbling out onto the solid ground. 

They nodded, lips tight. "I'll take that as contention."

They reached for the door, but Tosh grabbed their arm. "Wait, I have something for you. Only take a second." She shoved loose items aside in her purse, rooting for something in particular. "There we are," she said, holding the thing up in victory. She looked at it a little closer, pressing a button and holding until she finally deemed it worthy to hand to Carter. "Comm device," she explained. "So you can hear the others." She smiled. "Always carry a spare."

"Thanks. Much faster this way." They fastened it to their right ear, turning for Tosh to see it. "How does it look?"

"Professional," she nodded.

They looked out the window to see Ianto fiddling the door. Evidently, they didn't quite have permission to be in the building. "We'd better get going," they said softly, and together, they left the solitude of the car to join Ianto. 

Too many flights of stairs later, the three of them stepped out of the stairwell and onto the fifth floor. As they walked down the hall towards the servers, Gwen's voice surprised them from the comm device. "Tosh," she said, "report where you are."

She touched her comm device briefly, checking her scanner. "Just entering the Central Server. No sign of rift activity yet." She turned a corner and ran a hand along the server stacks. "This building houses servers for the military, police, NHS. Even looks after the server systems for the nuclear station at Turnmill."

Carter cringed. "Those are pretty important places to be messing with."

"What problem did they report?" Ianto asked. 

"Ghosts. In these server stacks."

"Ghosts?" Carter asked pointedly. Tosh smiled at them. "Okay," they agreed, "ghosts."

Tosh's face fell, her eyes focussing somewhere just beyond Carter's shoulder. Their eyes widened and they spun around, coming to face three hooded figures, each carrying scythes, the picture of intimidation. "Devils," they chanted in unison, "blasphemers." They looked up, the industrial lights casting shadows on their faces. "Pray to your heathen God, while in the Lord's name we cast you out."

Carter stepped back, moving behind where Ianto and Tosh stood, as the cloaked men advanced, weapons raised. Tosh and Ianto glanced at each other as they pulled out their guns, firing swiftly. The 'ghosts' each collapsed in turn before them. "Well," Carter said, gulping, "that's one way to handle it."

"Sorted," Tosh agreed. 

The Torchwood agents walked past the bodies, leaving Carter in a bit of shock until they realized they were falling behind. They jogged to catch up. "For the record, though," they said, "they just looked like really aggressive bible thumpers to me. Was killing them necessary?"

Ianto looked thoughtful for a moment. "Are you rather fond of keeping your head attached to your body?" he asked in reply. 

They nodded along skeptically. "I suppose, yeah."

* * *

"Attention, Torchwood employees. Evening all." Carter jumped at the unexpecting voice in their ear. "Now," John said, "stop what you're doing."

Gwen joined the chat. "Jack, what's going on? Are you okay?"

"Jack can't come to the comms right now. But, if you leave a message, I'll be sure to pass it along." 

"What have you done to him?" she growled.

"No, no," he corrected. "Wrong question. You should be asking 'what am I about to do to you?'" 

Ianto looked furious. And afraid, Carter noted. They felt terrible. He hit the inputting button on his comm device aggressively. "Put Jack on right now," he ordered. 

"Eye candy!" John exclaimed. "That was so masterful, so bossy, so... basically _powerless_." He huffed something similar to a laugh, and Carter could almost see the smug look on his face. "Get up to the roofs of your buildings," he instructed. "Quickly now, spit-spot."

Carter tapped on their own comm. "Why the roofs?" they asked. "Why should we trust a word you say?"

"Oh, new voice!" he proclaimed. "Are you the pretty blonde I suggested, by any chance?"

"Answer the question. What's on the roofs?"

"Well, not you, apparently. But, you should be. You'll miss all the fun if you don't listen," he teased. "Hold on a minute, do I mean fun? Or, do I mean carnage? I get them confused."

Carter looked at Tosh and Ianto, gauging their reactions. They knew that going out into the open on the roofs like that, doing just as he said, could put them in danger. Their heart thudded loudly in their ears, almost drowning out bastard John's voice. 

"Are you running yet?" he asked slowly, menacingly. "No dawdling, now," he threatened. Carter turned on their heel, heading for the stairs once more. They picked their pace up to a jog, slamming the doors open on the way. They'd take the risk of the danger. Tosh and Ianto could stay behind if they wanted — they had a funny feeling, though, that they wouldn't.

Stepping into the biting night air, they slowed to a stop, John's words singing in their ear. "Cardiff," he called. He lowered his volume to a whisper. "Isn't it pretty?" he asked. "Doesn't it twinkle so?" Carter looked around, hoping to see some hint of John hidden in the skyline. He'd asked them to come to the roof. Why?

"Take a good look. Remember this," he advised, "because it all goes so quickly."

Multiple explosions of various sizes were triggered at his words, going off in succession across the horizon of buildings. One of them was close enough to the building they were all gathered on to give off an encroaching wave of heat that caused sweat to gather along Carter's hairline. 

"Oh, my God," they muttered, grabbing at the side of the building for something to hold onto. They looked at Tosh and Ianto, but the view had captivated them, the firey clouds reflected in their eyes. 

An explosion right next door that Carter wasn't anticipating knocked them to the floor. They hit the cement hard, causing a shudder to echo through their whole body, their breath caught in their throat. Ianto had ducked to the floor of his own volition for protection, but Tosh stayed standing, far enough away to remain unaffected. She looked down at Carter then, rushing over to help them up, despite the smoke crowding around their heads. "Alright?" she asked, using her good arm to brace them. 

They nodded breathlessly. "Alright."

She checked her scanner, returning to the comm line. "I'm tracking a huge rift flare over at the castle. It's been generated by the rift manipulator at Torchwood."

Gwen ignored the news. "Tosh, Ianto, Owen, Carter, are you all okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine." 

"Still here."

"Me too."

"Just peachy." 

Tosh helped them up, and they rushed back to the servers. Inside, the building had taken on a frightening red hue. Alarms were blaring, in case the blinding lights weren't enough to let them know that danger was imminent. 

Gwen sighed in relief through the comms. "Good, okay, good. Tosh, do we have the scale of the damage to the city?" 

Tosh looked down at her scanner, filtering through about a half-dozen geographical reports. "Fifteen major explosions at strategic points across the city." Fifteen seemed like a small number to Carter compared to the destruction they'd just witnessed. "There's currently a surge in traffic trying to leave the city, but the explosions have cut off all major routes in and out. Landlines, mobile phones, and IT networks all down. TV and radio off the air." She looked around the room in despair. "He's completely crippled us, Gwen."

"Shit."

Ianto checked the servers on the wall next to him with a torch he'd procured from the lining of his suit jacket. "Don't want to be the harbinger of doom, but the systems which serve the Turnmill nuclear plant have all gone offline."

Carter groaned, pushing the hair out of their face. " _This_ is why nuclear power is so outdated."

"Right. Tosh, Ianto, Carter, you have to stabilize the nuclear power station," she ordered. "Make that a priority."

And they did. Tosh and Carter took over the room, connecting Tosh's computer to the servers to find the source of the problem. They worked efficiently, telling Ianto how he could help, prepping the processes for a final test to see if they could fix it. At Tosh's orders, Ianto fiddled with the connections, telling her when it was ready for her. 

"It won't work," she grumbled. 

Ianto checked where his fingers were splayed. "Nothing, sorry."

Carter sidled up to Tosh, looking at her computer screen. "We need to restart the Turnmill servers," they said. "That should fix the problem."

"What if we can't?" Ianto asked. 

Tosh ground her teeth. "Then the reactor goes into meltdown," she admitted. 

Ianto grabbed his torch, stuffing it in his pocket. He squared his shoulders, sighing. "I'm going up there, then."

Carter and Tosh argued with him instantly, with, "No, no, there's—" and, "But, Ianto—"

He cut both of them off. "Look, if we can't fix the remote servers, there must be something I can do on-site to prevent a nuclear meltdown."

Carter closed their eyes and looked up at the ceiling. It made sense, of course. There were only so many things they could do remotely, and they doubted the people at the power station had the knowledge or the equipment to solve things before it got critical. 

"That would be suicide," Tosh said reprimandingly. 

"Are we going to discuss it? Or, are we going to do it?" he asked, taking out his frustration on the closest person in the room.

Tosh worked her lip between her teeth. "Okay," she allowed, "but we both go."

" _All_ go," Carter corrected. "We're not drawing straws for this."

Ianto looked at Carter and Tosh in turn and nodded to himself. Then, they took to the streets. 

* * *

They had been walking down the streets of Cardiff for fifteen minutes, and they still had nearly double that to go before they reached the power station. It had been a quiet walk, devoid of talking, all except for the ragged breathing that drowned out the dead air.

Carter was covered in soot, and they stunk of smoke and sweat. Their muscles were sore, and their body was running on adrenaline yet again. They had spent days on end working on the transporter, then had spent the whole of today running around the city, following John's cryptic hints in an attempt to keep the city safe. 

He made them uncomfortable. Not only was it worrying that he was capable of, and okay with, performing an act of terror; there was also his questionable relationship with Jack. When John was just a stranger disguised as a hologram, Carter's stomach turned at his choice of wording for Jack. It sounded very possessive. 

There are grey areas when you consider villainy and corruption — thinking in absolutes is destructive in itself. Carter could find it in their heart to forgive someone with good intentions. Hell, they were friends with Missy. But, if they were to find out that John had _emotionally_ harmed Jack in any way, they wouldn't feel sorry for hurting him. It would be the members of Torchwood that would have to forgive them for what they would do.

Of course, speak of the devil and he shall come. Or, in this case, _think_ of the devil. 

John's voice surprised all three of them, forcing them to come to a halt in the middle of the street. "Toshiko," he said, and Carter bristled. "I need you to run a trace for an etheric particle signal NME transmitting at two hundred beta cycles."

Owen chimed in, worriedly, speaking in a hurry. "Gwen, where are you? What's he doing? Where's Jack?" 

"Trace that signal. We'll find him," he assured. 

"It's okay, Tosh," Gwen said. "I've got him covered. Just do as he says."

Tosh looked to Carter for answers, then Ianto, then shook her head. She brought her scanner up to her face, typing in the variables that John had specified, doing as she was told. "No signals even vaguely resembling that," she said hotly. 

"No," John stuttered, "there must be. That transmitter was guaranteed for five millennia, through three ecological perma-layers. It has to still be transmitting." There was a pause. "If not, we'll never find him. He'll be buried forever."

"Buried?" Carter asked. Instead of a concise response, a high-pitched whine shot through their comm device, making them cringe and pull it away. They relaxed at the loss of the noise, but quickly found a new focus for their worry — the grates in the street were being pushed up from the sewers.   
****

They recognized the creatures immediately. They were the same as the one they'd shared a cellblock with, in the depths of Torchwood. Weevils, Tosh had called them. They seemed far less subdued than they had been in the cell.

Carter stared as weevil after weevil crawled onto the street in a rage, tackling passing pedestrians and ripping at their throats. Someone grabbed their hand, roughly yanking them away from the scene as it unfolded. They were pulled into an open building, behind a brick wall, hidden from the onslaught. Tosh only let go of their hand when they could look her in the eye. 

Ianto was more composed, dealing with the setback as he went along. "The streets are flooded with Weevils," he reported, to anyone who might be listening. "They came out of nowhere. There's no chance we'll get to the nuclear power station in time."

Carter quickly shoved their comm back up to their ear, catching the last bit of the conversation. "King of the Weevils, remember?" Owen said, and it seemed to actually hold meaning for Ianto. 

He looked past the wall they were crouched behind, looking grim. "Right," he began, "back to Torchwood."

"Then, who's going to Turnmill?" they asked. 

"Owen."

They looked out at all of the near-feral weevils roaming the street and sighed. "Good luck."

* * *

"You know, you've got a real pest problem around here."

John and Gwen stood in the middle of the Hub, surrounded by weevils. Tosh, Carter and Ianto, on the other hand, had crept in through the tourist's office, quietly watching, waiting to step in. 

Carter shrank back from the corner they were peering around. "Okay," they whispered. "I could always try to talk the one weevil down, we had quite the bond when we were on the same cellblock. He seems like a pretty nice guy, but we have some history. I sort of left him alone in his cell and then rubbed it in his face, so the negotiations are going to be harder than they normally—" 

Shots rang out around the Hub, and Carter slumped. "Or, we could do it your way."

Gwen ran over to Ianto, looking ready to give him in the hug of his life. "God, I'm so pleased to see you," she groaned. Ianto had other plans. He didn't stash his gun away after discharging it, instead choosing to point it at John, working his way forward with a look of murderous intent. 

Tosh, Carter and Gwen all lept forwards at the same time, reaching to disarm Ianto before they had a bigger mess to clean up. John himself wasn't very fond of Ianto's ideas either, trying to talk him down. "Don't start. I'll make things right, Eye Candy," he promised. 

Tosh shared the same dangerous gleam in her eye as Ianto, looking very ready to help her teammate pull off John's murder. "Then start by getting those Weevils down in the Vaults before they recover," she said instead. "It takes more than a bullet to stop them."

Three weevils meant three volunteers to carry them away. John, Gwen and Ianto each chose a body to throw over their shoulder, while Carter and Tosh stayed behind to help Owen calm things down at Turnmill. They'd been planning a course of action for only about a minute before Owen joined them on the comms, asking for help. "You're going to have to help me out here. I haven't got a bloody clue what I'm doing," he said deprecatingly. 

Tosh grumbled a few choice words under her breath, looking at the reactor diagnostics on her computer. "I don't want you to panic, but the reactor's already hit the critical point," she explained. 

"Okay, you're telling me it's going into meltdown, aren't you? And, I'm in the eye of the storm." 

"Yeah, sorry," she said. Carter cringed. They stood off to Tosh's right, waiting to help. 

"Can you fix it?" Owen asked. 

"Of course I can," she replied, smiling. "I'm brilliant." 

They smiled with her despite the regrettable situation. 

"I'm going to try and divert power from an auxiliary source back to Turnmill," she began, but Carter's attention was elsewhere. Tosh was so enamoured in her work that she didn't notice the stranger standing in the middle of the Hub, gun raised. Their heart skipped a beat, a vice tightening around their chest, squeezing the air out uncomfortably. 

They looked closely at his face. _Not a stranger_ , they thought, _Gray —_ the hologram that John had baited Jack with. Only, this time, he was very much real. 

"Right," Tosh carried on, completely unaware, as she moved out from behind her desk. "Now—"

Carter grabbed Tosh's wrist harshly, shoving her behind them.

They didn't even feel the bullet, not at first. Their only thought was to keep Tosh behind them, keeping her firmly stuck between Carter's back and the desk. 

At the moment, the hardest task of all was remembering to breathe. They were frozen in place against Tosh's front, acting as a barrier, and that was an easy train of thought. Easy. Just stay still, that was all it called for. Breathing, however, was always changing. Their body was telling them to hold onto their breath, keep it in and count to ten until the pain went away; their head was saying that they should get all the oxygen they could, that they would go delirious with blood loss soon, and they couldn't afford to lose oxygen, too. 

Somewhere in between their frantic thoughts, Gray came forwards. He pulled the power cables from the computer, the screen going black, tossing them to the floor.

Carter's legs began to shake underneath them, and they felt themselves slowly slipping to the ground, dragging Tosh with them. If they could just keep her behind them, Gray wouldn't be able to aim well enough. They prayed Tosh understood what they were trying to accomplish. They prayed that Gray would have enough mercy to spare. 

He knelt in front of them. "I've heard people say death is such a waste," he whispered. "I imagine it more as a relief."

They looked at him through their brows, face glistening with beads of sweat, gasping for breath. He had to have hit a lung, must have. It shouldn't be this hard to breathe. 

"What's it like?" he asked. "How does it feel?" He leaned forward, closing the distance between their faces. He picked up Tosh's dropped gun from the floor, tossing it across the room. "Are you afraid? Are you sad?" He looked at where Tosh sat beyond their shoulder, bracing their body. "You can tell us. The battle's done." He lifted his gun upwards, pointing it directly at Tosh's head.

"For all of us."

There was a bang that rang out through the entire Hub, and Gray turned away. Then, another. And another. 

"What's that?" he asked the empty space, leaving to investigate. He left Tosh untouched. 

She waited until she couldn't hear Gray's footsteps anymore to move. She slid on the floor to Carter's front, taking in the sight of the wound. Gray had shot them to the left of their navel, just above the hip. Tosh pried their hands away from where they were pressed against the spreading blood, then reached around to check their back. Penetrating — the bullet was still inside. "Okay, okay, okay," she muttered, careful to keep her volume down. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Owen was still bugging her from the Turnmill station, asking if she was alright. She couldn't find the words to reply. She was physically alright, of course. Carter had taken the bullet; they _weren't_ alright. They were bleeding out, and, somehow, Tosh was feeling the same despair that they were. 

She flinched as someone grabbed her hands. She looked down, eyes wide. Carter had both of her hands gripped together in something similar to a prayer, their hands wet and sticky and warm with their own blood, their bleeding left unstaunched. Tosh stared at their joined hands, allowing herself a few deep breaths, before finally looking them in the eyes. 

"You need to help Owen," they said. 

They were right, of course. Owen wouldn't stop talking in her ear, asking for directions, help, if she was okay. He had himself in a state, half-convinced that _she_ was the one laying bleeding on the floor. 

Their breathing was shallow, but they managed. "I'll keep pressure. You don't have to worry."

Tosh couldn't stay calm if her life depended on it. But, really, it didn't. Owen's did. So, she'd try. "Okay," she agreed, her voice thin, backing up slowly. She brought herself to stand on weak legs, swaying slightly. "Owen?" she asked.

"Tosh, thank God. What's wrong?"

She couldn't look away from the blood that was already drying in the crevices of her fingers. "My arm," she lied. "Just sorting out another painkiller for it." Then, she visibly broke out of her trance, shook off her apprehension, and got back to finishing her job.

Carter was cold. The floor underneath them was freezing, leeching their body of any warmth it managed to retain. They shivered. 

They reached a hand away from where it sat at the entrance wound, keeping their promise of giving pressure, and brought it up to their neck. Their heartbeat was fast, and it didn't feel as strong as it should. Bad sign. 

They placed their hand on their stomach once more, letting their head fall back against the leg of the desk. As if the day couldn't get worse, their eyes happened to land on the last thing they wanted to see — the transporter.

It lay on Carter's makeshift work area, reassembled to its former glory. They blinked in its direction lethargically. And, then, they thought, well... they had to _know_. They had to know just how ironic their death would be. It was right there, functional, and they had to go and get shot. 

They groaned in pain as they pushed themself over to the desk, sliding along the floor. They bit their lip, leaving a horrifying trail of blood in their wake, the movement ripping open the newly formed clots that had helped with the bleeding. They reached out a soaked hand, the bright colour stunning them momentarily, and tugged the device into their lap. 

They carefully avoided the more important pieces, hoping not to sever the connections. They placed their hand on one of the handles in the inner workings and gave power to the transporter with the press of a button. 

The display lit up. 

They laughed disbelievingly, as much as their torn muscles would allow, finding the whole thing hilarious. So much work had gone into this, so many nights and days and wasted hours, and the one who needed it was dying on the floor. It was spectacular, really. 

The Hub started to fade. Death seemed to be very cinematic, they thought. The world fading to black should be reserved for shitty action movies, not their final moments.

Only, it wasn't fading to black. It was just fading darker. And very rhythmically, too.

They looked around, their mouth parting in astonishment at the familiar surroundings that had simply appeared around them.

"There you are," Missy called from the other side of the console. "I really should have guessed. Everything's always about Earth, Earth, Earth. You know, I should destroy the thing in a fit of jealous rage." She smiled, tilting her head. "Oh, wait! I already did."

She stepped around the console, taking notice of Carter's increasingly dire situation. She pouted. "Oh, you _had_ to go and get hurt, didn't you?" She flounced across the room, shoving their hands away from their stomach. "Really," she reprimanded, tucking an arm behind their knees, the other behind their shoulders, and effortlessly lifting them from the ground. 

Her nose crinkled delicately. "You're cleaning my dress after this," she complained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter I've written thus far, at over four thousand words!! I really wanted to keep going, too, but I found a natural break and stuck with it. Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Also, put a lot of thought into the chapter title, *please* love it as much as I do :)


	12. Not Quite a Girlfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, folks! This week has been absolutely crazy, and it's only about to get worse. Updates may be fewer and farther between for a while as I try to split my focus between writing and teaching myself all of my courses.   
> Enjoy the chapter!

Carter watched Missy in awestruck silence. She moved quickly and fluidly around the med bay of the TARDIS, not faltering once. She came back to their side with a sizable piece of machinery, pointing it at their abdomen. She turned a dial on the side, and something fizzled _in_ their stomach. 

"Woah," they exclaimed, hitching their shirt up to see the damage. "What the hell was that?"

Missy hummed to herself, wetting a cloth. "Advanced scalpel. Got the bullet right out of there."

They brushed shaky fingers over the ripped skin, still lightheaded. "Felt weird," they admitted. 

"This won't feel any better, I promise," Missy said, swiping the cloth along where the blood had begun to congeal. 

"Ow!" they exclaimed, eyes wide. "Missy!"

She took the skin she'd cleaned around the bullet hole, pinching it together. "Ow, ow, ow," they whined, arching their back against the pain. It hurt more than the act of actually getting shot. Missy took another, smaller device, and ran it over the gunshot, enveloping it in a soft green glow. She looked up at them through her mess of curls. "It's just a .22 calibre," she said, exasperated, as the skin healed itself under her fingers.

Carter's stomach left pink and angry, a little raised where the bullet had struck, she stepped back. "All better," she said, tossing her equipment down carelessly on the table next to her. She went to a cupboard on the other side of the room and pulled out a nondescript white shirt, tossing it to them.

They caught the piece of clothing, took a few experimental deep breaths, and rubbed at the newly forming scar. Their eyes wandered up to Missy, where she waited impatiently, hands clutched behind her back. They sat up, pulling their shirt soiled shirt off and exchanging it for the clean one. They felt amazingly not queasy, and quite like they weren't dying. Then, in a quick, flash movement, they flung their arms around Missy's neck, pulling her down to their level.

They squealed a little as the hugged her close. "Missy, oh, this is fantastic, _you're_ fantastic," they fussed, standing up to get a better grip. 

Missy's hands hung awkwardly at her sides. "I don't think I'm much of a hugging person, you know," she cringed, lip brought back in a snarl. 

Carter sighed contentedly. "You are now." They stepped back abruptly, breaking the embrace, eyebrows high on their forehead. "Tosh!" they said, heading for the door. "I forgot all about Tosh!"

Missy stood dumbfounded for a moment, staring at where they had just been, then muttered something obscene, following them. She looked at the coordinates in the console room. "Oh," she groaned. "We'd better not be where I think we are!" she yelled at them as they rushed out of the TARDIS. She growled, grabbed her umbrella, and shoved past the doors. 

In the Hub, Missy discovered that her TARDIS had taken on a strange look. It was now a very familiar blue phone box, inscribed with the words 'police' and 'public call' on the side. She squinted at them. "What'd you do that for?" she asked, giving a little poke with the umbrella. "Now's not the time to be playing tricks on me."

Carter had stumbled out of the blue box on shaky legs, rushing to Tosh at her computer. They halted abruptly beside her, breathing hard. She gaped at them, blinking in their sudden health, scanning them up and down. "I thought—" she stuttered. "I mean, you—" she tried again. She settled for a bright laugh and clobbering hug. 

They drank in the feeling, a huge grin on their face, pulling Tosh tightly too their chest. "I know," they said. 

Tosh pulled back. "I have to, um," she started, nodding her head to her computer. 

" _We_ , actually," they corrected. "What have you got?"

She bit her lip. "Well, I can flood the radiation internally. Keep the meltdown isolated. Owen just has to put the building into lockdown so nothing escapes."

They nodded along. "Good, good. How can I help?"

"Well," Missy interrupted, "you can start by introducing me to your wee friend." She strutted over to Tosh, swinging her parasol. 

Carter sighed, a weak smile tugging at their lips. "Missy, Tosh. Tosh, Missy."

Missy stuck out a hand. "Toshiko Sato, I presume."

Carter blinked. "You know her?"

The computer behind Tosh wailed loudly, stopping all niceties in their tracks. "Damn, damn, damn!" she shouted, pressing on her comm to talk to Owen. "Get out of there," she urged. "There's a power surge in the system. When that hits, it'll trigger an emergency lockdown."

Carter activated their long-forgotten comm device, listening in.

"No!" he shouted, and their heart clenched. "No! Tosh! Toshiko, I can't get out." He took rattling breaths, panicking, and their stomach dropped once more. "Not like this," he lamented, "not like this."

They spun around to Missy, a fresh idea sparking a bit of hope. "How fast can you get us to the Turnmill nuclear power station?" they asked.

Missy grinned, looking feral. "Faster than you can mention the dog's unmentionables."

Carter grabbed Tosh's hand, pulling her into a jog. "Come on," they giggled, following in Missy's wake. They touched the side of their comm. "We're coming Owen. Two shakes."

Through the doors to the TARDIS, Missy danced around in circles as she pressed a series of buttons, all followed by a grand, final flip of her dematerialization circuit. Tosh was practically glowing, her brain whirring with hundreds of questions, thoughts, ideas, all jumbling into a bout of speechlessness. Carter smiled proudly at her.

Missy waved her hand through the air, looking all too blasé. "You can go fetch the disposable."

Carter was already out the door as Tosh mouthed _disposable?_ to herself, screwing her face in confusion. They stumbled out, the change in scenery still catching them off guard, and spotted Owen in the centre of the room. They yanked on his wrist. "Come on, flyboy," they called over their shoulder, leading him to the TARDIS. 

He froze inside the doors. "But, how—"

"Off we go!" Missy sang, flipping her parasol over her shoulder. 

Owen looked at Tosh. "What the fuck?"

Tosh ignored him, running forwards and enveloping him in the biggest hug her tiny arms could manage. "You twat!" she admonished, clinging onto his neck as his arms floundered. 

"Happy to see you, too," he murmured, wrapping his arms gently around her waist. 

Carter leaned against the console, leaning back. They smiled at Missy. "Thank you," they whispered. 

"Don't get sentimental," she sneered. She moved delicately along the counter, gently piloting them back to their original coordinates. She stuck her hands in the air in a victory gesture and yelled, "Right back where we came from, folks!"

Owen and Tosh broke their embrace, Owen looking quite confused. "So, who's this?" he asked. 

Carter went to speak, but Missy cut them off before they could get the words out. "I'm Missy," she said melodically, "Time Lady, former prime minister, and former queen of evil." She looked him up and down. "I'd shake your hand, but I'd be afraid of catching diseases."

Owen floundered. "Oi!" he shouted pathetically, while Tosh just giggled at him. 

Missy sighed dramatically. "Well, come on, off we pop," she encouraged, going towards the TARDIS doors. "Last I checked, your team was a bit bigger than this. Boy, would I love to see that handsome Jack again!"

Carter's eyebrows furrowed. "You know Jack, too?" They followed her outside, gesturing for Owen and Tosh to follow. 

"Oh, of course," she intoned, tutting about the state of the Hub. "He and I go _way_ back."

"He never mentioned knowing you," Tosh pointed out. 

"Hm?" She tsked. "Did I not say I went by a different name back then?"

Carter glared lovingly. "No, you didn't."

Jack, Gwen, Ianto and John entered the room, interrupting any further discussion. Out of the four of them, Jack looked especially shaken up. His mood didn't improve as his eyes came upon the voluminous pool of blood by Tosh's desk. He ran up the steps from the cells. "Tosh?" he called. 

"Right here!" 

He and Gwen came to a stop at the top of the stairs, faces breaking into wide smiles after seeing everyone in good shape. Ianto stared at the blood from behind them. "Then, whose is that?" he asked. 

Missy tossed her head in Carter's direction. "They leaked on your floor a little bit. You can bill me for the cleanup."

"Carter?" Ianto looked for confirmation. 

They stuck two thumbs up in front of them. "All good!"

The three Torchwood agents left their spot at the stairs, John following. He leered at Missy, sauntering over. "Who's this?" he asked seductively. 

Her face soured. "I don't do humans," she said. 

Carter hit her shoulder. "Just a little bit racist," they reminded her. 

She sighed, making a big show of rolling her eyes. "Fine, fine."

Jack looked at Missy's TARDIS, taken aback at the shape they had chosen. He looked to Missy. "This looks awfully familiar," he accused. 

Missy waved her arm. "No, no, don't get the wrong idea. The TARDIS just looks like that because it's the best camouflage around these parts. I'm not your dear Doctor." She smiled predatorily. "But, it is _lovely_ to see you again, Jack."

He squinted at her, bringing his brows together. "Can't say you look familiar."

"No," she agreed, "I wouldn't."

Owen rubbed his hands together. "Right. Well, as nice as this reunion's been, I need a drink," he said, ever the sap.

"I need several," John complained. 

Missy stuck out her umbrella, garnering Carter's attention. "I think it's time we got going," she suggested. 

Brought back from the euphoria of seeing Missy again, they couldn't bring themself to smile. The high hadn't lasted long, and now they were left with the listlessness of having to say goodbye. "Yeah," they said softly, nodding. 

Jack stuck out his hand. "Well," he said, "it was good getting to know you, Carter." They took his hand, giving a firm shake. "And," he added, "if you ever need a job..."

"I know who to see," they finished. "Thanks."

Tosh made it clear that she was next, stepping quickly from Owen's side to wrap them in a warm hug. Carter closed their eyes; they parted. 

They looked into Tosh's eyes, searching for any sign of apprehension, any hint that they shouldn't be leaving. "You could always come with us," they offered. 

Tosh's eyes glittered as she smiled. She held onto Carter's waist, holding them close. "I have to stay here," she said quietly. 

"'Have to,'" they quoted back at her. "But, do you want to?" 

She looked at Owen, and then at Jack, letting loose a deep breath. Carter never took their eyes away from her. "Yes," she admitted, and she turned her head to look at them.

Carter smiled sadly. "Okay," they whispered. They reached their hand up from Tosh's waist to her face, gently holding the side of her head as they leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. They lingered for a moment, then moved back, let go of Tosh, and grinned at the dazed look on her face. 

Missy pursed her lips, trying to control her smile, singing, "You've got a _girlfriend_ ," as Carter joined her at her side. 

Tosh touched her cheek where Carter's lips had brushed, blushing. "Not quite a girlfriend, I'd say."

"A fling," Jack offered.

John nodded conspiratorially. "He would know, trust me."

"Hey," he argued, turning with an emphatic expression of his hands. "I'm a monogamous guy now." John snorted. 

Missy tossed her hair, still singing, strutting away to the TARDIS. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G," she spelled, ignoring the others, using the tip of her umbrella to nudge the door open. 

Carter looked up at the ceiling, running a hand through their hair. "Yeah," they said quietly, "of course." They looked at each of the members of Torchwood, wincing. "I'd better get going."

Tosh stood at the centre of the group. She gave them a small wave and a half-smile, mouthing her goodbyes silently. Carter turned quickly, trying to make the affair as easy as possible, and followed Missy through the doors to her TARDIS. 

"So," Missy crooned, leaning on her umbrella. "Where next?"

They stopped short, biting the inside of their cheek. "I have a few questions," they said. Their talks with Tosh had brought some concerns to the light that they hadn't even considered before jumping into their new life with Missy. They needed to know some things about her first; whether their blind trust was entirely earned, and just how scrambled Missy's moral compass was. 

She straightened, raising one eyebrow in a perfectly sculpted arc. "Well," she said, "I can't promise you answers." 

"I know." They walked around the console, a little closer to her. The TARDIS had since cleaned up their blood, which was doing wonders for their nausea. "I want to know how you got away from the Arcateenians."

Missy smiled, producing something that looked awfully like a sneer. She tossed her head back and forth, quirking her lips, debating the answer. She grimaced. "I suppose I killed them, didn't I?"

Carter scoffed. "Is that supposed to be a question?"

"I'm trying to remember!" She draped herself over the railings, placing the back of her hand on her forehead. "It was just so long ago. Must've been at least a half-hour. And, they were _so_ unimportant. Static characters, am I right?" she laughed. She looked at Carter's unamused expression in disdain. "This is difficult for me, you know."

"What's difficult?" they asked, frustrated. "Trying to be a good person?"

Missy huffed, blowing a curl out of her face. "Yes," she sulked. 

Carter sighed. Their eyes softened and they walked up to Missy, taking her hands in theirs. Missy froze at the familiar sensation — she remembered when the Doctor had done the same thing, with the same request for her. Everyone wanted her to change, whether it be for the sake of themselves, or for Missy.

Recently, Missy had been starting to think that the Doctor had only been trying to heal her for himself. He wanted his friend back. It was selfish. But, then, so was she.

With Carter, she didn't have the foresight yet to see just what they wanted. The uncertainty of that made her feel like she had been left out of a very elaborate inside joke. 

She looked up at them, all big eyes and desperation, and paid attention. 

"No more killing," they said simply. "If you hurt someone, and I mean _anyone_ , even if they deserve it; I'm gone." They brought Missy's hands up, threading their fingers together. "Got it?"

Missy stared at them, and then their hands, all too similar to when he had given her that shred of hope. And, now, here she was, accepting the scraps of companionship like a beggar in the streets. When would she ever learn?

She broke their eye contact. "Yes," she murmured, "I believe I do."

"Good." They placed her hands at her sides again, letting go. They looked at her front. "You need a change of clothes."

She snorted. "You're one to talk. That shirt looks absolutely dreadful on you." She sighed, grabbing their hand. "Wardrobe's this way," she said. 


	13. Kate Lethbridge-Stewart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm back from the grave. Or, digging it deeper. Who knows?
> 
> Anyway, thanks to all who nominated me for the busiest month of the year. Loving all the spare time I don't get as a bonus. See you all when I show my pretty little face again!

Carter leaned out of the TARDIS, coming face-to-face with the barrels of about a dozen automatic weapons. They looked up, smiling apologetically. "Give us a second, will you?" they asked, shutting the doors. They turned to Missy, not a foot of space between them, and made an angry, erratic gesture. "Where are we?" they whispered harshly. 

Missy grinned. "UNIT. Thought they might be glad to see me again." She reached past them, shifting the doors so they could both peer out. She looked at the guns distastefully. "I thought you'd be glad to see me again, Kate," she said, exasperated. 

"The last time I saw you, my father crawled out of his grave." Kate crossed her arms over her chest. 

Missy stepped out into the sea of terrified soldiers. "To _save_ you," she specified. "You should be grateful."

Carter joined Missy at the centre of the action. Kate's gaze stayed fixed on them. "We have protocols in place for you, just so you're aware," she warned Missy. "What are you doing here?"

Missy flashed a smile, gratified at the chance to give a dramatic backstory monologue. "You didn't think I stopped keeping tabs on the Doctor, did you?" She let her mouth gape wide open in mock surprise. "I heard he had a little scuffle, I suppose you could say," she continued, "and I'm here to help with the cleanup." 

"Help?" Kate challenged sharply. "UNIT doesn't need your help."

Putting their hand in the air like a schoolchild, Carter drew everyone's attention. "Hold on," they interrupted. "Who's the Doctor?"

Kate blinked. "You don't know?"

Missy petted their arm, looking down at her. "They're fresh meat," she explained. 

Carter grabbed her hand, pulling it away. "I'll kick you in the shins if you call me that again," they threatened pleasantly. "Care to explain?"

Putting on a business front, Kate tensed. "The Doctor is a Time Lord — last of, we thought. Until we met _her_ ," she said, jamming a thumb in Missy's direction accusatorily. 

"More importantly," Missy interjected, "he's my best enemy, my closest friend, and, sometimes, my boyfriend." She bared her teeth. Carter pinched the bridge of their nose, trying to ignore the armed men all around them. 

Kate was losing her patience. "No more chat," she berated them. "Earth was just on the receiving end of a brutal invasion; would've proved fatal if not for the Doctor, and we're trying to piece it all back together again. So, please," she spat, "answer. Why are you here?"

Missy frowned. "We're here to help!" she exclaimed. "I already told you that."

"Help? Really? You threw me out of a plane!"

"You did?" Carter asked, trying to hold back their smile. 

"Well," Missy sighed, "I had to get the Doctor's attention."

"Enough." Kate huffed. "You're to leave, Missy. You aren't welcome here."

Missy raised her eyebrows. She hummed. "You want my help," she claimed. 

"UNIT doesn't need your help. You're not on the payroll."

She smirked, lifting a small device that Kate hadn't noticed was in her hand before. "Are you sure?" she asked. She pressed the glaring red button on the face of the device, and time stopped. 

Well, only for a select few. The useless men with guns were all frozen, but Kate, Carter and Missy could move around freely. 

"Time lock around the TARDIS," she explained. "Cheap trick, you've seen it before. I'm rather fond of it."

Kate had since pulled out her own firearm, pointing it dead centre at Missy's chest. "Release them," she ordered. 

Carter wandered around the border of the time stop, toying with some of the soldiers curiously. They took off the hat that they had been trying — it wasn't working for them, Missy wouldn't let them imagine otherwise — and plopped it onto one of their heads. They squinted, adjusting the hat's position, and continued circling once they were satisfied. 

"I don't think I will," Missy confessed. "And, I don't think you want me to."

“Don’t play games,” Kate warned. “No more. Spit it out.”

Missy formed her response by approaching the agent that Carter had donned their hat on, tickling him under the chin. “Carter,” she broached, “did you notice anything when you gave this one a makeover?”

They looked at him closer. They squinted. “Hyper-masculinity?” they asked.

“Besides that.”

They scanned him over again, trying to see what Missy was seeing. “Well, that’s a pretty nasty scar, for starters.”

“Exactly!” Missy congratulated them, bouncing on her heels in excitement. She turned to Kate. “Ever asked him where he got it? Noticed it recently, by any chance?”

Kate was weary to trust what Missy was piecing together, but she played along for the benefit of the doubt. “I wouldn’t know,” she admitted. “We have quite a variety of people employed at UNIT.”

“Oh, really? Did you add Harmony Shoal on the payroll, but not me?”

Kate’s eyes widened. “You’re not really suggesting—“

“Of course I am.” Missy flicked his hat off, sighing. “Poor boy. Happens to the best of us.”

Rubbing her creased brow, Kate closed her eyes. “Release the time lock. Let it all play out. I’ll deal with it.”

Carter raised their hand again. “Where did we leave off?”

Missy patted their shoulder. “Payroll talk.” She looked pointedly at Kate. “Which we’ll discuss further later.”

She laughed at Missy, putting her gun away. “Right.” They returned to their original positions, putting on a face, Missy’s thumb poised over the device. She smashed the button, returning the agents back to the right time stream.

“Last I checked,” Missy continued, “I worked on letting some of your staff go. Could consider that an HR position, if you’re in a good mood.”

“I’m not.” She nodded to the agent at her right. He stepped forwards, protected by his coworkers’ aim, confronting Missy. He looked faint.

“Get on with it,” Missy encouraged, mocking a motherly tone.

He reached behind him, producing two pairs of handcuffs.

Carter groaned. “Again?” they asked him. They turned to Missy. “Again?”

“Only for a little while,” she tutted, sticking her wrists out in front of her.

The agent shook his head. “Not at the front.”

Missy gave him a look of annoyance. “One can hope,” she admonished, turning swiftly to face the TARDIS doors, wiggling her fingers behind her back.

Carter, looking unimpressed, did the same. They leaned closer to her, speaking softly in her ear. “You owe me.”

She rolled her eyes. “So dramatic.”

They snorted. “Says you.”

* * *

Carter and Missy didn't let being in UNIT custody stop them from having a good trip. They chatted brightly, to the annoyance of their surveyors, treating the setback as any other day. 

"No, no," Carter laughed, shaking their head. "You can't be serious. Teddy Sparkles?"

Missy smiled near lecherously, nodding. "Magic teddy bear who almost ended the world. Well, did end the world. But, then, turned it all back."

"Sounds like an interesting fellow."

"I can't judge," Missy sighed. "Did the same thing, once. He was just more annoying about it, is all." 

"What?" Carter squeaked.

She crinkled her nose. "I hate that goddamn bear," she growled. "Humiliated me, is what he did."

"Now, whoever would have guessed that you're so susceptible to public opinion?" Kate asked lightly, strolling into the room. Someone else was at her side. Large glasses, a colourful scarf, hair pulled back. Missy, unfortunately, recognized her.

"You!" she exclaimed. She floundered like a fish on land, soon recovering. "But, I killed you! It was classic!"

Osgood smiled. "I'm Osgood. You killed the other Osgood." She looked to Kate, sharing in an inside joke. "Apologies for your misfortune, but you can't kill us all."

Missy just gaped with her mouth wide open. Kate smiled proudly. "We've finally shut her up," she congratulated. 

"Back to our regularly scheduled programming," Carter interjected. "Mind telling us what happened with the nasty scar guy? Wait, hang on." They huffed, slouching childishly. "Does he still have my hat?"

Missy crossed her legs delicately, having bounced back from her shock. "Darling, trust me, you don't want it back."

"Don't tell me what to think, _darling_ ," they mocked. 

"If you could be quiet, please," Kate said over their bickering, exhausted. "We've dealt with the issue."

"Have you, really?" Missy had since relaxed, hardly bearing any resemblance at all to a prisoner. She looked more in charge of the conversation than Kate did. "You eradicated the entire threat from your workforce? You're certain there are no imposters left?"

Kate's eyes darkened a little, and Carter suddenly felt bad for Kate. She was in an admittedly difficult situation. "We were very thorough," she said. 

"So, you won't mind if I take a look?"

"You aren't permitted to."

"Really," Missy started. "I haven't killed a single person since I've got here, which has been _such_ a difficult thing to get a handle on, and you still don't trust me?" She nodded her head in Carter's direction. "I mean, I even brought a friend."

Kate crossed the room, standing with her back to Missy. "You'll never be trusted here, Missy. Not as long as I'm in charge," she said quietly. "In fact," she announced, raising her voice, "you're under arrest."

"What, now? How do you get that?"

Kate sauntered off, joining Osgood at the door. "At last count, you've committed at least five international offences, probably more. UNIT's lost track over the years."

Missy stood up indignantly. She stomped at the ground with one of her heels, petulant as a child. "But, I'm helping! This is an apology."

"An apology is an apology. This is just toying with your food."

The guard that had been hovering over Missy stepped forwards, nudging her at the back with the end of his rifle. Carter moved to join them, but they stopped when Missy nudged their outstretched foot. "Now, you just wait there a second, dear," she said. She stalked up to Kate. "You talk big game, do you know that?" she asked quietly. 

Kate looked unimpressed. "What makes you say that?"

"Well," she sang, stepping to the side of the compartment, starting to pace. "The last time I saw the Doctor in his old body — do you know the one? Brown, floppy hair, adorably thin. The last time I saw that body, the day I gave everyone on Earth my face..." She stopped moving. "The day I brought Gallifrey back." Missy kept pacing back and forth, as though nothing had happened. "That day," she said, "he confided something in me. Told me something I'll never forget. He said, with his bloody awful, smug face, that I was bone-dead stupid."

"What does this have to do with anything?" Kate asked. 

"It has to do with everything!" she shouted back brightly. "Everything, everything; because I learned something from him, then. He was more perceptive than I was and I," she tapped her temple, "I took that and ran." She stopped in front of Kate, UNIT's weathered leader, looking too serious. Missy couldn't be serious, she thought, it wasn't in her nature. 

And, then, she didn't disappoint. 

"You're the one that's bone-dead stupid this time, Kate." She spun around one-hundred eighty degrees, using her tied hands to snatch Kate's gun from her side holster. With a rather exciting flourish, she rotated her wrists dizzyingly, and the handcuffs fell to the floor. She pointed the weapon at her assigned UNIT agent before he could even twitch his trigger finger. 

She sighed contentedly, rolling her shoulders and stretching her neck. "That's better," she hummed. 

Carter shifted in their seat, looking in between the two armed individuals. Not quite as skilled in the sleight of hand as Missy, they brought their feet up on their seat, moving their hands from behind, to underneath them, and in front. They clasped their hands together, tucking them in their lap, crossing their legs. 

"Missy," Osgood said slowly, "put the gun down. No one has to get hurt, alright? You've done enough here."

"I haven't, though." She waved her gun around flippantly. "You're just as stupid as your boss, really. If I believed in a God, I'd be praying to her for you."

"Then, explain it to us. What's he done?"

Missy answered by pulling the trigger. Carter flinched at the noise; Kate looked ultimately resigned, her mouth set in a permanent frown; and Osgood's hand rushed to her mouth in shock.

"Now," Missy said, gesturing the body, "do you see what I mean?"

What she was referring to, in fact, was the blue brain matter that had splattered all across the wall. It was drippy, grotesque, and vibrant a colour as ever. 

She winked at Kate. "You missed one." She tossed the gun back at her, where she fumbled to catch it, and sat beside Carter. She covered their hands with hers. "Was that alright, love? I'm sorry about the mess, truly, if I could have avoided it, I would have."

Carter didn't like that Missy could be so quick to make what should be a difficult decision. It seemed uncaring. But, when they looked up to see the earnest look in her eyes, they wondered how anything she did could possibly be uncaring.

"It's all fine, Missy." They smiled reassuringly. 

She beamed. "Oh, goody. I was hoping we wouldn't have another moral dilemma on our hands."

She stood up, facing a worried, ruffled Kate. On top of the work itself, UNIT had been called into New York, of all places, which gave her quite the jet lag. If she weren't conditioned for the military, she'd have dropped dead by now. Missy took her hands in hers, as well. "I just wanted to say, Kate." She frowned. "Katelyn? Katie?" 

"No, I prefer—"

"Katie, it is. I wanted to tell you that I am, indefinitely and absolutely, _sorry_ for the ill feelings that I've caused you." She felt bile tickling at the back of her throat. The nausea was crawling back with a vengeance. "I apologize." She considered asking for a bucket. 

Kate appeared taken aback, her eyes wide. "Well, I— Thank you, Missy." She cleared her throat. "But, an apology is not quite the sentence that Earth's governments had in mind."

Missy grinned wolfishly, baring her teeth in the most apologetic conniving smile. "That's our cue, then." She grabbed Carter, pulling them up from their seat, and gave a little wave to Kate and Osgood. 

Hands still bound at the wrists, Carter lifted them both, waving goodbye, a small smile playing on their lips. 

Missy, cackling like mad, slapped a hand on her vortex manipulator, and they were gone in a wink. 

* * *

Carter flexed their wrists, happy to have their range of motion back. They dragged a hand through their hair, ruffling it, stretching out their shoulders. It felt good to be back in the environment of the TARDIS.

They ran their next words over in their head a few times, working up the courage to pose a personal question to someone who was undeniably skilled in switching topics. The fast-paced conversations spun them this way and that, at first, but they were getting used to the chaos.

A deep breath. "So," they said, drawing out the vowel, wandering in a manner that was supposed to be nonchalant. The query stuck in their throat, but they'd already committed themself. Missy picked up the sentence. 

"So?" she asked. She perched herself on her parasol, following them with an intent gaze that they were avoiding.

They took their sleeve in their hand, worrying the fabric obsessively. "Why have you never mentioned the Doctor before?"

Missy snorted, smiling ruefully. "Is that what has you so bothered? I would've guessed something a little more serious than _him_."

Carter continued to run the fabric through their fingers, frowning. "It just seems strange, that's all. You said that he was your best friend. Occasionally your boyfriend, whatever that means. But, I've never heard of him."

The two met around the console, their aimless wandering bringing them together. Missy sighed. 

"I suppose I don't like to speak of him. He reminds me of who I was. _Why_ I was that person." She furrowed her eyebrows. "It's hard to—" She cleared her throat. "It's hard to articulate. I had my reasons for what I did. But, I don't like the way I felt about them."

Carter smiled. "Now, that is some wonderful communication. Gorgeously executed, well done." They gave her a round of applause. "Can I give you a hug for that?"

Missy groaned, throwing her head back. "If you must, dear." She stuck her arms out at her side, giving Carter room to wrap their arms around her. They weren't the only one surprised when Missy slowly wrapped her arms around them, matching their gentle embrace. 

Chin tucked over their shoulder, they voiced their thoughts. "It's okay to not know. Really, it's okay to not understand how you feel. You just have to have faith that the answers will come to you eventually, with a bit of work." They stepped back, mulling their various encouragements over. "I have faith in you," they settled on. 

Missy smiled, not unkindly. "That's refreshing."

Their face pinched with concern.

"It shouldn't be."


	14. The Albarian Uprising

Missy took a deep breath in, holding it, letting the air settle in her lungs. She breathed out harshly, letting her breath fog in the air in front of her. She stepped out of the TARDIS fully, looking up into the night sky with her arms outstretched. 

Carter shivered, refusing to leave the doorway. "It's cold," they complained. 

"Freezing," Missy agreed, twirling. She stopped, the tip of her nose just a little too red for the rest of her face. "Doesn't it make you feel alive?"

They shook their head. "Alive, sure." Her enthusiasm was sweet, but the shaking in their hands they couldn't seem to kick was more pressing. "I'm getting a coat."

Missy sneered, mocking them in a high pitched voice. "I'm getting a coat," she squeaked, tossing her hair with each word. She gazed down either end of the alley they'd materialized in, muttering complaints about human homeostasis and various other faults and idiosyncrasies. Carter emerged again wearing a knee-length button-up overcoat; thin, but deceptively warm. "Better?" she asked.

They smiled, shoving their hands in their pockets with a tilt of their head. "Much."

Missy started walking, not looking to make sure that Carter was following. "I'm glad you're comfortable, pet, but do try to think ahead in the future." 

"How can I think ahead when you don't tell me where we're going?" They hurried into a jog to catch up with Missy. "Where are we, anyway?" 

Missy stopped at the end of the makeshift pathway, gesturing to the open space in front of them. The buildings up high, in the dark, looked just the same as 21st century Earth. With the light the sidewalks provided, seemingly naturally, they could see how different everything really was. The buildings looked obsidian; the windows, some boarded, didn't look like glass. They didn't reflect any light, for starters. Everything seemed so dark.

They looked up, and the stars weren't there. 

A light tap on their arm made them look back at Missy. She was smiling brightly, the usual ferociousness absent from the curve of her lips. She pointed down — to the ground? — and Carter followed her gaze confusedly. There wasn't ground at all; they were on a ledge. Their stomach flipped uncomfortably with the added height. 

Missy whistled at the drop. It didn't help. "Albar," she breathed. "That's where we are." She peered over the edge, leaning a little too far for Carter's comfort. "It isn't this cold on the ground level. The wind chills it." 

Carter took their hands out of their pockets, creating a small hollow to blow warm air into. "So, how do we get down there?"

Missy glared at them. 

"What?" they exclaimed. "It's cold."

"You're so whiny," she groaned. "It's like having a child."

"Oh, but you love me," they giggled. They rocked from heel to toe, staring up at the endless skyscrapers to distract them from the drop. 

"Normally," Missy sighed, "I'd say take a taxi." 

"But?"

"But, it's late. Too late. And _we_ travel in style."

She smiled, holding her umbrella over the large gap in her right hand, and letting it fly open. She held it upright, pushing it closer to Carter. "You've got to be joking," they said. Not responding, Missy raised her eyebrows and gestured to the handle. 

They hastily reached out, wrapping their hand firmly around Missy's. Breath coming quicker, they smiled weakly, reassuring themself. They nodded. 

Missy looked smug. She started to count. "Three, two..." 

She stopped. Carter hit her shoulder, and she laughed. 

"Touchy!" she joked. "One!"

They leaped from the ledge, Carter scrambling to follow after Missy, letting out a light, surprised scream. Expecting a sudden drop, they gasped at the supported feeling of floating slowly downwards. They clutched tightly to the handle, finding it remarkably unnecessary; there seemed to be an artificial updraft that kept them steady. Forcing themself to relax, they fell. 

'Falling is like flying, but with a more permanent destination,' they recalled. Missy had solved that problem, and they were flying. 

* * *

Missy tucked her parasol away, hair ruffled delicately by the wind. She was right about it being warmer down here. Carter felt they didn't really need the coat anymore, but they kept it on in anticipation of heading back to the TARDIS. 

"You should be grateful," Missy announced. "That used to only be suitable for one person, but I modified it for two." She winked. "Just for you."

They smiled lightly. "You sure know how to make someone blush." They looked down either end of the narrow street, searching for life other than just Missy and themself. They couldn't see any. "Where is everyone?" they asked. 

"Hmm," Missy hummed, biting at her carefully lined lip. "Probably hiding."

"Hiding from what?"

She wandered to one side of the road, tapping on one of the boarded windows with the tip of her brolly. "How good is your Earth history? Pay attention in school?"

Carter snickered indecently. "Barely. Most of it came naturally." They sauntered over to Missy. 

"Try the 20th century. Late thirties to early forties."

They were starting to feel uneasy. "Second world war," they offered slowly. "Allies, axis; Stalin, Churchill and Roosevelt." They eyed Missy as she poked at the poorly constructed boards covering the windows, turning to examine them themself. "Is that what's happening here?"

Missy stroked the surplus material with care. "Yes, quite."

"Missy!" they reprimanded, a little louder than they should have. "You brought us to a warzone?"

"It's the only time this place isn't packed with tourists. We can finally get some peace and quiet around here."

"Peace and— God! Are you serious? We could have gone to a library again if that was what you wanted." They tucked their hair back feverishly, searching around for any danger. "What's the fight here about?"

Missy scoffed. "What's anything ever about? Power." She wandered down the street, comfortable in the supposedly hostile environment. "There was a shift in power. The Albarians rose, recognized the loss of their rights; the Stenza wanted to shut it down. They liked their spot at the top."

"So, it's the rising of a minority," they surmised. 

"Yup!" she said, popping the consonant. 

Taking them by surprise, a small, tunnelled light flickered between them. Carter raised a hand to shield their eyes, staring in the direction of the flashlight. "It's past curfew," the figure yelled at Missy and Carter, moving closer. "Time to go home."

Missy sprung to life, putting on a show. "Apologies, officer," she said poetically, extending a hand. "We'll be on our way now."

The officer came into the light Missy and Carter shared. Thinning white-blond hair; old, aged features marring a youthful face; a worn, dark uniform that fit large on their small frame. "I'll need to see your identification cards first. What are you doing out here, anyway?" Carter stepped back, unconsciously creeping closer to Missy. "It's dangerous." 

"Pardon me for disagreeing, but I _think_ ," Missy crooned, "we can take care of ourselves."

The officer chuckled. "Try telling that to a Stenza warrior."

"Oh, I intend to."

Their friendly exterior flipped like a coin, Missy's unsettling remarks accomplishing what they were intended to. They put their left hand to their hip holster, hoping to convey an air of threat, but barely even managing to scare the easily spooked Carter. "Now, listen here. Albar's got a fragile government as it is, and we can't do with people like you causing any unnecessary conflict." They gave Missy and Carter a lecturing stare in turn. "I'll see some identification now."

Carter smiled apologetically, patting down their pockets. "Left it at home," they lied awfully. "Sorry, mate."

"Scatterbrain, this one," Missy added, trying to affirm their flimsy little fib. Their _fibette_ , she might have called it. 

They scowled. "And I suppose you forgot yours, as well?" 

She sighed. "Oh, well. I _was_ going to say that, but it seems as if you don't believe us." She started to back up, slowly, unnoticed, and Carter took the hint. "And, good on you. Congratulations, really. Way to spot a liar!" she cheered. "Anyhow, we must really be going now. Places to be, things to do, people to save. You know how the Albarian resistance is." She grabbed Carter's hand. "Toodles!"

They took off sprinting down the street, faster, and more coordinated than they had been the first time. Missy didn't like running, and she had no intention of making a habit of it, but she was excelling rather wonderfully. The two rounded a corner in a tight curve, dashing through a tight gap in the architecture. They escaped the officer entirely unobstructed; no gunshots were heard. 

There was a reason for that.

Back with the officer, Missy had seen it faster than Carter. The move they'd made could be, conservatively, referred to as a bluff. Hand on the hip, make them think you're dangerous.

Missy liked guns, to an extent. Sometimes, they're too effective, too quick at their job. They can lack finesse. But, with skillful craftsmanship, a gun can be a lovely little weapon. She was rather fond of one of the models to have been shared from Arcadia, one that promoted suffering over 'finishing the job.' _That_ was art, truly. She should visit Arcadia again. But, that's beside the point. The gun that the officer was armed with fit into neither category of gun. It was fake. Missy, unlike her friend, was aware that Albar was currently in a recession, unlike anything this galaxy had ever seen. They couldn't afford proper weaponry. It was a miracle, sheer dumb luck, that they were making any progress in their civil war at all. 

Carter saw it too, despite their disadvantage, about a half a minute later. Missy often forgets, but they were a peacekeeper. And, peacekeepers, contrary to the name, carry guns. They knew how to load and fire just about every model of gun the Earth had available, and they were only learning more as they continued their travels. By now, they were confident that they could identify all sorts of weapons from all sorts of planets based on intuition alone. Call it an engineer's pride.

They discovered, along with Missy, that they were free to leave whenever they pleased, so long as they were fast enough. 

The officer, far away, shouted obscenities that echoed around them until they were no longer comprehensible. They were just afraid for themself, but, God, it really put a damper on travel plans. 

They reached a spot far enough away from their pursuer, Missy pulling them down to crouch behind a bundle of discard. The flashlight passed just over their heads as they caught their breath. The footsteps receded after a short while, and they relaxed minutely.

“Oh, dear,” Missy whispered. “That was brisk.”

Carter grabbed at their side, tossing their head back. “I think I pulled a muscle.”

“You’re _fine_ ,” she contemned.

They both stood cautiously, slinking around a corner away from the officer. They'd strewn from any source of light, and Carter was struggling to balance in the dark. Missy took out her laser screwdriver, turning it to an idle setting. A light orange glow shone around them. 

"It's really quiet," Carter whispered, somehow driven to not disturb the silence. Missy had said she was looking for peace, anyway. "Isn't there a war supposed to be going on?"

"They're hiding," she explained. "It's night time. Turn a light on, you put yourself at risk of being the target of a raid. This," she said, gesturing to the buildings around them, "is probably the most populated area in this district. It's an imposture." She looked up at the starless sky, pointing out a small, blinking light. "Do you see that, there? Probably a Stenza surveillance ship. They're just waiting for the right idiot to make their fatal mistake." Missy sighed, keeping her neck bent awkwardly. She missed the stars. The quiet was lovely — it was a break from the buzz, the constant humming in the background. It reminded her that not everyone heard 'the drums' at some point in their lives; reminded her that she stood a chance at normalcy. But, she really missed the stars.

She turned to Carter, ready to tell them everything on her mind. 

And they weren't there. 

"Oh, God," she grumbled, "give them an inch and they take a mile." Should have let them write down the rules, she thought, then she stood a better chance of keeping Carter from running off. "Dearest?" she called lightly, not intent on causing a Stenza raid. 

She sighed dejectedly.

"Carter?"


End file.
